


Where Boys Fear To Tread

by dubbbz



Category: Filthy Frank - Fandom, Maxmoefoe - Fandom, idubbbz - Fandom
Genre: Crossdressing, Filthy Frank - Freeform, Fluff, Gay Sex, Idubbbz - Freeform, Lighthearted, M/M, Maxmoefoe - Freeform, Smut, Yeah boy, cancer crew - Freeform, cute boys are going to fall in love im so excited, cute fic, fuck yeah it's gonna be a good year, im back kids, like maybe once a fortnight idfk, lots of laughter and cuteness, maxian, theyll be longer though, updates will be semi-regular from now on i hope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9077080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dubbbz/pseuds/dubbbz
Summary: Max and George live in a caricature of a white neighborhood, and Ian lives nearby. They're young, boisterious, hella horny, what will happen when max and ian meet????Wow, who could guess??A hella lighthearted, humorous(or so i've been told) Maxian AU. A lot of sex, a lot of goofs, and lot of cute shit. Just in case u need a break from all the str8 boy angst in this tag (i don't mean any shade.) lil bit kinky.





	1. Candy Cane Walks Down

**Author's Note:**

> Little Necessary Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story have the same names and appearances as the youtubers, and their personailities are somewhat based upon the real life people, but in no way am I saying this is what I think they are like. Because, well, obviously, I don't know them. I don't think maxian is real in real life; both Max and Ian have girlfriends and I support their relationships and want em to be happy. If Max, Ian, George, Chad, or any close friend of theirs comes across this and is reading this right now, I'm very sorry,,, pleas do not hate on me, I am just trying my best and writing this is what makes me happy!! ahh!!!! ty for reading my disclaimer. enjoy the story,

In the quiet, suburban cul-de-sac, not a stone was out of place. Everyone’s grass was neatly manicured, hedges perfectly trimmed, topiary perfectly topiaried- if you asked anyone in the area, they would tell you that Gossamer Place was the goody two-shoes of all streets.

Except for the house at the end. In a world of paved driveways and white rose bushes, it was a grimy concrete mess, over grown with moss and teeming with odd looking burn marks. A picket fence out the front was a horrifying sight of cracked, peeling paint, and dusty looking cobwebs. The neighbours turned their noses up when they walked past, pulling their pampered dogs away from the overgrown weeds in the front yard, sometimes even walking off the pavement onto the road of the cul-de-sac as to not be near the dreaded Number 18. Middle-aged women on their daily walks would sneer at the house, sometimes popping passive aggressive notes in the letterbox urging the occupants to clean up their yard.

 

It was one such note that fell at a visitor’s feet when he ambled down the street one windy afternoon. He picked it up, puzzled.

_Hi there, hope you boys had a great Christmas and a Happy New Year._

_I’m surprised to see that Santa didn’t clean up your yard for you! Haha! Please, consider getting rid of those yucky weeds? It would really make the street look a lot nicer._

_Kind regards,_

_Sandra._

The visitor chuckled, and scratched his head. He dropped the note, looking towards the end of the street; he didn’t need to check his phone to know where he was headed. Number 18: As he walked past the letterbox he thought he saw a large spider crawl into it. Number 18: Dandelions growing through the cracks in the poorly paved garden path. Number 18: Surprisingly clean white door in a cobweb ridden nook, small blue stained glass window.

The stranger knocked at the door, peering up at the disconcerting amount of spiders hanging jauntily above him. He adjusted his glasses as he waited, hearing a large bump and some shouting inside before the door was finally opened. The man stood there, short but sturdy, looking distant for a second before he broke into a bright smile.

“Scooter!” He cheered, brown eyes crinkling, pulling the lanky guest in for a hug. He hugged back, awkwardly patting the shorter one on the back.

“I told you not to call me Scooter.” He mumbled, dejectedly.

“Whatever. Ian.” The man said. He scrunched up his nose. “Ian sounds like you’re here to sell me some fuckin insurance. I like Scooter. It sounds more like someone I’d suck off for weed.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Ian frowned jokingly. “Are you gonna let me in?” He adjusted his glasses.

“Oh. Yeah. Come in, _EEEan_.” He mocked.

“Oh fuck off, George. If you’re gonna say my name like that I may as well sell you some fucking insurance.” Ian said, exasperated.

“Aw,” George pouted. “You can’t get high off insurance.”

“You can try,” Ian laughed. “Nice place you got here.” He looked around. It was obviously built to be a nice home for a small family, but George had made it a dark and messy deadbeat’s haven. Beer cans littered the floor, tables were over flowing with notebooks, pens, and various items of clothing, and some heavy bass song boomed from somewhere in the house.

“Yeah, we’ve really settled in.” Ian noticed George said “we’ve”, but he didn’t bother to ask who “we” was. He knew he’d just moved in a couple months ago, after finishing University. Ian had met George at a party, and the drunk boy had told him his facial hair made him look like someone called “Scooter” and insisted on calling him that. Weed and drunken sexual favours aside, they struck up a great friendship.

“So um, what happened to sobriety?” Ian ventured, sitting awkwardly on a wobbly chair as George heavily threw himself down on the couch.

“Oh, sobriety can suck my ass. Made my mum happy, made me miserable as fuck. Besides, I missed you.” George grinned, stretching his hands behind his head.

“Good to see you too, dude.” Ian chuckled. “How much you want?”

“How much ya got.” George sprung into a sitting position, leaning forward and watching Ian’s face intently. Ian adjusted his glasses. He fumbled in his pockets for the drugs, giving George a friendly smile. Just as he brought it out, a... man? Walked into the room.

He was pretty tall, stately, and wore a tight pair of black shorts over fishnets, the majority of his legs on show. He had on a white t-shirt, and held a leather jacket over his shoulder. He was chewing gum, and seemed to be pretty content- until he noticed the weed in Ian’s hand. His pink mouth sprung open.

“GEORGE!” He yelped, screwing up his previously pretty face. “What did I tell you about dealing drugs in my living room? I thought you’d stopped that! We already get the police at our door enough, deal with your slimeballs somewhere else!” He glared at Ian. Ian was taken aback at how Australian the man’s accent was. He blinked, adjusting his glasses. “Ugh. Anyway George, I’ve got a shift, I’m taking the car. See you later.” And with that, he strutted out of the room.

Ian was flabbergasted at the encounter. He looked to George, who was staring at him, desperately trying to conceal his laughter.

“Uh,” Ian twitched. “Got a new boyfriend?” He tilted his head coyly.

“B-boyfriend?” George shook, his rich laughter filling the room. “No, no, no- That’s Max. He’s just my- haha- flatmate. We’ve been friends sin-since we were kids.”

“Oh.” Ian’s voice came out quite high-pitched. “Well, uh, here’s your weed dude-“

“Do you wanna stay for a beer?” George interrupted him, handing him the money. Ian squinted, pushing up his glasses with the crook of his finger.

“Nah, no thanks. I better be going. Got some business to do.”

George smiled cheerily, and they both got up. He directed Ian to the door, patting him on the back.

“Thanks man, see you soon, hopefully.” Ian waved him goodbye.

 

Walking back down the dirty path, Ian shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky. The sun was almost setting, an orange shroud of fluffy cloud covering the small suburb. He heard children yelling from somewhere, and some distant guitar playing, floating through the quiet air. Ian swore he could feel eyes on him as he walked up the pristine street, and he was certain he saw some curtains being thrust shut. He didn’t care. Upon reaching the (also pristine) bus stop, he took out his phone and checked the time. Idly, he wondered where that Max guy worked, looking like that? For some reason he intrigued him. Shaking his head, he sat down, hoping he’d see him soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, this is a new fic I'm very excited to start! I haven't come across many long maxian fanfics. This is going to be very funny sweet and lovely. I hope. Leave a comment to lemme know if ur excited.


	2. To Build a Bonfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Another one. I'm currently on holiday and sharing a room with a kid so I can't write any smut, so this is all I can write. I'm not complaining tho!! This is so fun.

It was with unclear intentions that Ian found himself walking down that street again, the next day. Well, not really the day... It was more like nine pm. It was pleasant though; he was spared from judgemental looks because everyone seemed to be asleep, cooped up in their quiet cottages. Faggots. Ian was grateful for the darkness that prevented him from seeing the menacing spiders above the door, as he knocked- once... twice. He heard a scuffle from inside the house. And Max opened the door- a completely different Max. He was wearing sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, and Ian admired the way it hung perfectly from his body. His hair was incredibly fluffy, and he looked over all... comfortable. Nothing like the high-strung man he saw the night before. He gave Ian a brilliant smile, leaning against the door frame.

“Hey.” He said, looking Ian up and down, squinting a little.

“Um, hi.” Ian breathed, finding it hard to make eye contact. “I forgot my um, pen, the other day, um, I just came to get it.” Max’s face lit up.

“Oh! Come in. I’m sorry, George isn’t here, he’s probably with some hoe, I dunno, come sit down.” Max rambled, dragging Ian into the house for the second time that week. “Would you like some tea?”

“Um, sure.” Ian mumbled, adjusting his glasses. He looked around the room again as Max made the tea in the kitchen behind him; there were sparkly high heels on the floor, and a closed laptop on the couch next to him. The lights were dim, and he thought he could smell pizza somewhere. He smiled gratefully as Max gave him the tea in a mug that said _“MR (always) RIGHT_ ”. Corny. Sitting in the chair across from him, Max looked at him expectantly. He was bemused by how graciously Max was treating him, and he sipped the tea cautiously. It was milky, and way too sweet. He kept drinking it anyway.

“Listen, I’m sorry for how angry I was yesterday. I just really don’t want drugs being dealt in my living room.” Max leaned forward, and Ian felt small and vulnerable under his gaze. He smiled timidly. “However,” Max coaxed, smiling devilishly, “I take back what I said about you being a slimeball. You’re actually pretty cute.” A soft hand came to rest on his arm. He stared at it. 

“Are you – are you flirting with me?” He blurted out, surprised, and embarrassingly turned on. He really wasn’t thinking. Damn it, damn it. Max sprung back, eyebrow twitching with annoyance, crossing his legs.

“You’re not very tactful, are you.” He pursed his lips.

“Fuck.” Ian cursed.  Max burst into laughter, turning from solemn to overjoyed in a split second.

“Don’t worry! That’s sweet.” Then his face fell serious again, and his corner of his lip twitched. “I’m free on Thursday. You can take me out then if you want to.”

“How do you even know I’m gay?” Ian asked, puzzled. He was overthrown by how unpredictable this boy was. Max laughed again, the sound warm and familiar.

“Oh, honey. The things George has told me!” He giggled.

“Oh.” Ian felt patronised, but one hundred percent charmed. He felt his cheeks turning red.

“Hand me your phone.” Max ordered. Flustered, Ian fumbled for his phone, unlocking it and handing it over. “Thanks. Oh, your name is Ian? Ha, I thought it was Scooter!” Ian covered his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“Oh god, no. It’s Ian.” He groaned. Max’s eyebrow twitched as he smiled down at the phone.

“Okay, Ian. Here’s my number, I’ll see you on ThursdayI hope.” The boy grinned, handing back the phone. Ian mumbled a thanks, standing up to leave. As they reached the door, Max exclaimed,

“Oh wait!” And ran back into the lounge. Ian stood at the doorstep, dazed. Max returned, smiling slyly. And All of a sudden Max was incredibly close, grabbing his ass and pulling him in. Ian gasped as their crotches collided, their bodies flush, something hard being slipped into his back pocket. “You forgot the pen.” Max explained lowly in Ian’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. Then he was gone as swiftly as he had drawn him in him, and Ian swore he saw a wink. “Bye now!” The boy said cheerily, closing the door, leaving Ian hot and flustered on the doorstep.

 _Oh my,_ he thought, as he trailed back up the path. He’d been there to see Max again- but he hadn’t expected it to go quite so well. Frankly, he hadn’t expected it go that way at all. He smiled to himself, clenching his fists and revelling in the thrill. A date, a date! With a pretty and incredibly unpredictable boy. Something about him made Ian so attracted, so intrigued, and he shook with excitement, making his way back to the bus stop.

-

Back at his Ian’s house, all the lights were on and one of his flatmates was having some wild erotic party. He mumbled a “hi” to her and her- lovers? Which she didn’t seem hear, then walked down the hall. Their ugly carpet was grey and stained a multitude of colours with various alcohols, and there was a dirty sock in one corner. Lovely. He picked it up, and knocked at the door with a picture of a cat on it, quiet piano music leaking out from inside. He heard a muffled “Come in!” And he opened the door.

“Hey Finn. Is this your sock?” He addressed the small figure on the bed, holding up the sock. They were curled up with a laptop, stroking a tiny black kitten.

“Oh?” They looked up, then shook their head. “No, that probably belongs to one of Charlie’s boyfriends. They’ve been over since six, having some type of orgy. I dunno.” They shook their head, shrugging. Ian grunted, and turned to leave the room, hitting his head on some sort of hanging space themed mobile. It swayed dangerously, and a glow-in-the-dark star fell from the ceiling.

“Okay, bye.” Ian muttered, scratching his scalp. Finn mumbled goodbye, still stroking the cat. He ambled down to his bedroom. The walls were the same boring shade of beige they always were, and his bed was messy but oh so comfortable. He pulled off his shoes then sat down, opening up his phone, going to the contacts. Max had put his name as _Max xoxo_ with some kissy emojis. He smiled to himself, wondering what he ever did to become so lucky, to somehow interest someone like Max. Suddenly the pen in his back pocket poked at him, and he pulled it out uncomfortably. It was pretty shiny, and heavy- and upon further inspection, a small _-George Miller-_ was engraved in it. He chuckled, placing it on his bedside table.

As he picked up his phone again, it began to ring, from an unknown number. He stared it for a bit, then decided to pick up.

“Uh, hey, Ian speaking?” He said warily.

“Hey! Are you uh, Ian Carter?” An excited voice came. “My friend gave me your number.”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” He said, amused. “Whaddya want?”

“Oh, um, I’d, ah-” The voice fumbled, then in a scared whisper- “I’d like to purchase some, um, weed.”

Ian burst out laughing. It was obvious the kid was terribly nervous, and he cruelly found it hilarious.

“Hmm, I dunno...” He peeved, “Have you got your parent’s permission?”

The line fell silent for a bit.

“Shut up.” The voice said, obviously embarrassed. “You are selling weed right?”

“Yeah dude,” Ian relented, still chucking. “As long as you’re over eighteen.”

“Cool!” The voice replied. “I’m Chad, by the way. So... Um, how do we organise this?” Ian smiled at the boy’s innocence, and adjusted his glasses.

“Well,” He began...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I really know nothing about weed and how it is dealt, so it's gonna be vague. Tbh I'm very much like Chad in this chapter. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Smut coming next chapter, probably. Also, i Like themes and for some reason i chose "Where Boys Fear To Tread" as the title for this story. It's a Smashing Pumpkins song, and the chapter names are going to write out the lyrics. So sometimes the chapter names won't be cohesive with the story. But that's ok, i just enjoy being a poetic lil shit. s'cool.


	3. To Break My Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Charlie

She sat cross legged on the floor, mouth partly open. Her tongue stuck out as she drew on a pointed eyebrow, looking intently into the mirror. The room was scattered with paintbrushes, crumbled up paper, and various makeup-looking items.

“Um.” Ian began. He stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Yeah?” She responded, her English accent making her sound aloof. “What’s up?”

“I have a date.” He fiddled with lint in his pocket.

“Oo!” She finally looked away from the mirror, swivelling to face Ian. She looked comical with one eyebrow dark and thick, the other barely there. A goofy grin spread across her face. “And you need my help with what? An outfit? Tips? I know what girls like.” She jumped up, approached Ian, and dragged him by the shirt down onto the floor. She stared at him intensely, and Ian had to hold himself back from laughing at the state of her eyebrows.

“Um, it’s a dude.” Ian scratched the back of his neck, apprehending a disgusted look.

“OH!” She smiled even wider. Grabbing Ian’s shoulder, she tilted her head knowingly. “You want dick sucking tips?” She said, smirking.

“Fuck off.” Ian grinned. “I can suck dick perfectly well, thank you.” He removed himself from her grip. “I just wanna borrow your car.”

“Oh,” She pouted. “My car? It’ll make you look a bit... uhhh... how do you say it...  fucking gay?”

“Well, I am going to be picking up my homosexual lover in it, so yeah.” He laughed. “Besides, what else am I gonna do? Show up with heelies?”

“Mmmm, yeah.” She laughed, naked eyebrow forgotten. “Okay, sure.” She got up and rummaged for her keys. She found them under a pair of lace underwear, which she threw aside, and held them up triumphantly. They were a horrible mess of straps, keys, and jangly keychains. She held them out, Ian received them gingerly.

“Charlie, is this even ironic anymore?” He asked, inspecting a glittery tag that said “I LOVE BOYS”. She smiled guilty.

“Shh, it totally is. Shut _up_ Ian, do you want the car or not?” She pushed him playfully when he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks man.” He nodded at her, she smiled.

“Don’t stay out too late!” She laughed, as he closed the door behind him.

-

Charlie’s car was shiny and white, and almost blinded Ian as he stepped outside.

“What the hell.” He muttered to himself, as he almost sat down on a drawing of an obscenely naked woman on the front seat. He sighed, sitting in the car and feeling shivers go through his body, as he had so many times that day. He pulled out his phone, and sent a text to Max.

_[Just leaving now :)]_

Max replied as he was just pulling onto the road.

_[ok, see you soon ;)]_

Ian blushed. He drove anxiously, and made his way to Gossamer Street, pulling round the corner into a world of crisp white fences and neatly manicured grass. It was just past six, and he could see the silhouette of a family eating dinner, a small child swinging its legs. This place really was something else, he thought. As he made it to the door for the third time that week, he barely had to knock before Max opened the door. He went to speak, but Max yelled out over his shoulder:

“GEORGE! GOT A DATE! BYE!” And he turned his head back around, and gave Ian a sweet smile, closing the door behind him. Ian was stunned (yet again) at the boy’s appearance. He was wearing incredibly tight black jeans, boots, and a pale pink shirt. His hair curled perfectly around his face, and Ian thought he could spy lipgloss on his rosy lips. Max noticed him staring.

“Watch out boy, you’re being a bit gay.” He winked. Ian adjusted his glasses.

“Oh sorry. If you’re looking for a straight boy, I guess I came to the wrong house.” He grinned.

“Oh shush.” Max smiled, hooking an arm around Ian’s. “You look very handsome, Ian.” Ian felt his cheeks become hot.

“Thankyou. But don’t get too excited, you haven’t seen my sweet ride yet.” He said, strolling up the path, arm in arm with Max.

“Oh boy.” The boy replied. “Aw, _sweet_ dude! Who’d you steal this from?” He exclaimed sarcastically, when he caught sight of the preppy car.

“S-steal?” He quipped. “Nah, this belongs to me.” He enjoyed the fleeting look of concern that crossed Max’s face. “Nah. Don’t worry, it’s my flatmate’s. Desperate times and all that, y’know.”

He opened the door for Max, then walked round to his side. Max was looking behind him to the various drawings strewn across the backseat.

“Quite an erotic array you have here.” Max smirked.

“Yeah.” Ian pushed his glasses up. “You know how much I _love_ girls.” They laughed, and Ian started the car. The sun was setting as they drove up the street, the sky a muted pink this time. Ian sighed, another shiver going down his spine. He felt the imminent awkwardness set in, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. They drove on.

-

“So,” Max began, leaning forward. “You’re kinda shy aren’t you? You haven’t said much.”

Ian’s head buzzed. They were in a quiet pub, sharing an entrée basket of fries. He sipped at his drink.

“I guess.” He said, feeling small.

“Don’t worry,” Max licked his lips. “I’m sure you’re a freak in bed.” Ian almost choked on his drink, Max smirked gleefully.

“Max, those guys over there are looking at us.” Three middle-aged men were at a table nearby, glaring at the two. Ian looked back to Max, who was watching the men with a small grin.

“Lemme guess.” He said, catching Ian’s eye. “They all live on my street. Their names are umm...” He paused, twirling his hair. “Tony, Richard, and Andrew. Their marriages are dying. SO, they’ve come to the bar to complain about their miserable sex lives and drink the night away.”

“Wow, you really know your stuff.” Ian said, smiling crookedly. “Except I think man number two looks more like a Todd.”

“Oh, interesting approach.” Max replied, leaning in. “They’re still staring. What have they got against young gays?”

“Jealous of the sex.”

“For sure.” Max was real, real close. Suddenly the waitress appeared, and took their orders. Max returned back to his original position, leaning back in his seat. “So,” He began. “How come you’re a drug dealer?”

“Oh.” Ian blinked, startled by the forward question. “I’m good at it, I get money, I dunno.” He shrugged. “How come you’re a...?” He trailed off awkwardly.

“Oh god,” Max giggled. “You think I’m a stripper, don’t you?” He rested his head joyfully in his hand. Ian didn’t answer, blushing. “I’m just a bartender. It’s a real sleazy spot, and I get more tips if I dress like a slut.” He smiled, enjoying the look on Ian’s face.

“Oh.” Ian said quietly, embarrassed.

“Besides,” Max continued. “I enjoy getting dressed up. Makes me feel special.”

“You are special.” The words slipped out of Ian’s mouth unplanned. Humiliated, he covered his mouth, but Max smiled, eyes crinkling.

“Ian,” He said. “You _are_ the cutest.”

-

Glasses clinked and voices faded as the night drew on. Lost in conversation, eventually Ian and Max finished their meal, paid, and went out to the car. Driving away, they fell silent, Max’s leg bobbing up and down. The date had gone beautifully, and Ian felt flushed and excited, mesmerised by the boy in the car next to him. As he drove, he noticed Max taking out his phone and texting someone hurriedly. He kept his eyes on the road.

 

A sly hand came to rest on Ian’s leg. He jumped, feeling shivers come over his body. Blinking slowly, he exhaled, trying to focus on the road. At a red light, the hand crept slowly upwards, and squeezed at his inner thigh.

“Fuck.” He muttered, looking down. He felt Max’s eyes on him. As the drive continued, the boys stayed quiet, but the hand on Ian’s leg kept teasing him, causing tension in Ian’s pants. As he stopped outside number 18, he tilted his head back and inhaled shakily. The silence was unbearable.

“Am I coming in?” He looked at Max, who was biting his lip, staring at him intensly. “Fuck.” He muttered again.

“Sure.” Max smiled impishly. Ian adjusted his pants uncomfortably as he got out of the car, the slamming door echoing out through the quiet street. Max sauntered confidently along the path, Ian walking along behind. Opening the door for him, the boy grinned at him, eyebrow raised. Ian kicked off his shoes, following Max inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut coming next chapter, haha. This one ended up a bit long.


	4. My Baby, My Sweet Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lil bit filler-y towards the end. feeling a bit lackustre. oh well. I'll probably upload again later today. ALSO: I've been putting about 1300 words in each chapter, and i've just realised that's way too fucking short. So, I'm working on making them longer. This one's like 1700, the next one's like 1900, but I may work my way up to 2300. I really have no idea what I'm doing, haha. The last time I wrote fanfiction i was twelve and writing emo 5sos fics on my ipod touch. Comments are appreciated.

The door closed behind them, and Max instantly grabbed Ian by the face, connecting their lips roughly. Ian gasped, feeling the nervousness he had fly away. He walked forward until Max was against the wall, gripping his hips. As they kissed roughly, Max’s back arched below him, an arm around his neck and a leg wrapped around Ian’s body. His heart was beating rapidly and he gasped as their crotches made contact, grinding against the boy. They kissed messily against the wall, hands groping, bodies rubbing against each other, any awkwardness forgotten.

Max pulled away, breathless, his red lips covered in a saliva. He grinned and pulled an eager Ian down a passage into his bedroom. Ian had no time become aware of his surroundings before he was pulled down onto the bed on top of a squirming Max, who was already fumbling to undress himself.

“Here,” He breathed, pulling Max’s shirt over his head. The boy didn’t respond, he just gripped at Ian’s ass and pulled him in, letting out a pleased sound as their crotches collided again. Bent over Max, holding himself up with one arm, Ian began kissing the boy’s neck, hoping to leave a mark. He groped at the body beneath him, running his hand up and down Max’s torso and eventually fiddling the button of Max’s jeans. Max paused for a moment, panting, to unzip his pants and wriggle out of them. Ian looked down and he was shocked- Max was wearing lacy underwear, the rich crimson colour contrasting perfectly with his pale skin. Mesmerised, he breathed heavily, pushing up his glasses and looking at Max.

“Can I..?” He began, gesturing towards Max’s bulge. Max huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck. Please, God.” He craned his neck up to kiss Ian, moaning into his mouth as Ian pulled his hard cock out of the lace underwear. Ian began kissing his neck gain, and rubbing his hand over his length, Max breathing hotly in his ear. His joints cricked as he kneeled up, manoeuvring further down the bed.

Max smiled down at him as he took his cock into his hand again, slowly giving the tip a flat lick. Max sighed, eyes rolling back.

“You are clean right.” Ian murmured, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Max wiggled in Ian’s grip, trying to get some friction. Ian nodded, taking the head of Max’s erection into his mouth. Slowly he began to move up and down, building the pace, enjoying Max’s desperate noises. He swirled his tongue around, using his hand on what he couldn’t reach with his mouth. Just as he gained a rhythm, Max pushed a hand down his head, making him gag. Max’s back arched as his tip hit the back of Ian’s throat, a high pitched moan coming out. Ian continued, ignoring the tears in his eyes, Max’s hand tangling in his hair.

“Fuck, fuck.” He muttered, making Ian wince as he pulled at his hair. His hips bucked up into Ian’s hand and mouth, and Ian’s glasses began to fog up.  He looked up at Max, whose eyes were closed in pleasure, biting his lip. He went to pull off, but Max’s hand held him there.

“Fuck, Ian- ah” Max gasped, as Ian bobbed his head, licking at the tip. “I’m gonna-” He moaned, and suddenly came, shooting hot cum down Ian’s throat. His back arched as he orgasmed, and he moaned loudly, pulling sharply at Ian’s hair. Ian swallowed it all, and pulled off his cock, stretching uncomfortably. He rubbed at his eyes and wiped his mouth, looking towards Max, who was smiling blissfully.

“Mmm...” Max sighed. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, um, ah,” Ian fumbled, surprised. “I-“

“Oh, sorry.” Max interrupted him, grabbing his jaw and pulling him in for a soft kiss. “I’m really tired now- besides, it’s late, you better be going.” He smiled sweetly.

Wow, Max really was something else. Ian was at a loss for words, dejected and still desperately turned on. He watched Max pull his clothes back on, taking the quiet man by the hand and pulling him out to the hallway. He kept smiling that innocent smile, as if he hadn’t just nutted in Ian’s mouth then left him hanging. He stopped close to the front door, grabbing Ian by the hips and pushing him gently against the wall. Their foreheads met, and Max pressed a soft kiss to Ian’s mouth.  
“I’ll see you soon, I hope?” He whispered to Ian’s lips.

“You cunt.” Ian muttered, dazed. Just as Max was about to say something, the lock clicked and Max jumped away from him just in time to see George come through the door. He blinked a couple times, then a surprised look crossed his face.

“Ian? What are you doing here?” He said, smiling brightly, closing the door behind him. Ian searched for words, Max came to the rescue.

“He just came over because he for _got_ something the other day. He’s, um- he’s got it now, he’ll just be going.” Max said coolly, then shot Ian a glare. Ian nodded hesitantly, trying to look convincing.

“Oh, okay.” George nodded, seeming distracted. “Seeya, Scooter.” Rolling eyes ignored, Ian was swiftly ushered out, and left confused on the doorstep. As he walked away creakily, he heard Max lecturing George about his “fucking stoner friends” or something, harsh Aussie accent leaking through the crack in the door. Wow, what night. It had started so well, but ended with him getting teased, glared at, and left half hard, standing on a spider infested doorstep. He sighed at the problem in his pants, clambering back into the car.

As he travelled up the street, he saw two men get out of a car. They looked familiar. The doors were shut gingerly, cautiously, and he watched as they said goodbye to each other and staggered towards their respective homes. Ian almost slowed to a halt as he watched it unfold, amused. One of them was obviously more drunk than the other, and fumbled to unlock the door, until an woman opened the door for him, angry expression on her face. Uh oh.

The drive back to his house was uneventful, quiet, except for his laboured breaths and the confused thoughts swirling round his head. The sky was almost pitch black, and street lights covered the uniform suburbs in a flickery orange haze. Looking for a distraction, he turned on the radio. It was on some station playing terrible whiny music. Whatever, it was _something,_ at least. When he stopped at an intersection, the red light pervaded the car with an evil looking glow, illuminating his pale forearms and shaky hands. He wriggled uncomfortably, pulling out his phone. _10:30 PM_. His heart jumped as he saw he had a text from Max, and an excited thrill went through him.

_[Sorry, I just didn’t want George to know.]_

[Um yea, I got that] He shook his head, bemused. That’s all he had to say?

_[I had a fun time tonight ;)]_

Ian, paused, wondering how to respond. He felt like he’d been played a trick on. Was Max into him, or had he just cold heartedly used him for sex? He didn’t really know what to think, but he stupidly, foolishly couldn’t help being excited to see the boy again.

[Me too :)]

 

-

 

“IAN!” Charlie flew into his arms. “It’s almost eleven! How was it?” She smiled slyly. “Tell me everything.” She spun around, pulling him down onto the couch.

“Well...” He began. She fell off the couch. “Um, how high are you, Charlie?”

“I’m not that high... anymore. I swear.” She smiled, picking at a plain piece of bread. Ian rolled his eyes.

“Oh, well, ok. It went _great_ , we’re gonna elope, I’m moving out tomorrow.” He said, deapan. She sat there for a second before she frowned, staring at the carpet.

“Shut _up_... you loser. How did it _actually_ go?”

“Pretty good, I think.” He relented, pushing up his glasses.

“Hmm? Did he invite you back to his place?” She looked at him hopefully.

“Yeah, I sucked him off, and then he kicked me out before his flatmate got home.” He chuckled dryly, leaning back. She stared at him for a moment before realising he wasn’t joking. Then she burst into laughter, and proceeded to laugh, until she almost fell off the couch again.

“What a cunt!” She spluttered. “You must have been really bad.”

“Shutup.” He retorted, rubbing his forehead. “He said he wanted to see me soon.”

“Mm, they always do.” She shook her head knowingly, then smiled. “Nah, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I can get you an invitation to my next orgy.”

“Wow.” Ian looked at her disbelievingly. “Thanks.” She flipped her hair. 

 

They ended up getting high, and curled up on the couch together, watching some knock-off Disney movie about fish.

“She’s so pretty...” Charlie murmured, running a hand through her dark hair and pouting. “I wish I could be that pretty.”

“You’re jealous of a fish?” Ian laughed.

“No, I’m jealous of how pretty she is... Dude. All the other fish are in love with her!”

“Yeah... Okay.” Ian said lazily, letting his eyes droop. Charlie wriggled next to him, snuggled up in a big blanket.

“You’re so comfy, Ian.”

“Thankyou.” They continued to watch the movie. Whether it was good or not Ian had no idea, but they laughed together at the dumb jokes the fish told. It was nice; he felt at peace for the first time in a couple of days. Cuddled up with his friend in the middle of the night, peacefully high, munching on plain white bread like it was the best thing they’d ever tasted. However, the thought of Max was still at the back of his mind, a quiet, sizzling feeling that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he _tried_ to ignore it.

“Listen dude... don’t worry about your date, bro.” She said eventually. “He’s... he’s _gay_ , anyway.” She blinked slowly, happy with her advice.

“Wow, you’re so _wise_ Charlie.” He played with her hair softly. “How _do_ you do it?”

“I dunno... I’m just talented.” She smiled.

“Hey... Did I mention he was wearing panties?” He said, grinning. She turned her head sharply, looking up at him.

“Are you serious? Like, lady’s underwear?”

“Yea... they were red.”

“Oh damn, you’ve got yourself a freak, my man...” She said, holding up a fist for him to bump. He rolled his eyes, but bumped it reluctantly. And the movie played on, into the early hours of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unsatisfactory smut that no-one asked for, haha. sorry kids.


	5. Just Maybe, We Could Lose Ourselves This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max is an ass. Chad is a sheltered kid.

_“Hey Ian,” Max purred, gazing at him seductively. He grabbed Ian’s collar, drawing him in, their faces inching closer and closer. Max smiled dreamily, licking his lips. He traced Ian’s jaw delicately with his index finger, then roughly slapped him across the face. “Wake up, you cunt.” He whispered, tangling his fingers in Ian’s hair. “Wake up...”_

“You lazy piece of shit.” Ian’s eyes fluttered open to see Charlie leaning over him, squinting angrily. His face hurt.

“Ow,” He mumbled. “Fuck off, cunt.” He rubbed at his cheek.

“Your gay lover is here.” She smirked. A shock went through his body, and he sat up, blood ringing in his ears.

“Oh, god.” He groaned.

“It’s okay,” She said calmly, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll distract him while you clean up.” He thanked her, and hurried out of the room, hiding his awkward boner.

“Oh god, oh, god.” Ian muttered, looking in the bathroom mirror. He dragged his hands down his cheeks, shuddering at the oiliness. The water was frigid, and it dripped down his arms as he attempted to clean his face.

“Fuck.” His room was a mess as well, and as he walked in he kicked clothes to the side, trying to make it seem tidier. In one corner he found an ok-smelling shirt, and he pulled it on, along with some shorts he found under a pillow. Nothing seemed to make the room look presentable enough. Making the bed, drawing the curtains, throwing the empty beer cans in the trash- it would have to do. He paused for a breathless moment, checking his phone. _1:47 PM._  Yikes. He floundered for deodorant, and put it on, gave himself a minute in the mirror to fluff his hair, and set off back down the hallway. He couldn’t do anything fast enough to save Max from Charlie’s wrath.

 

He paused at the door to the living room, trying to catch his breath. Between puffs, he heard Charlie say something along the lines of “the balls” and Max reply animatedly, “yeah, the balls”.

“Fuck.” He muttered again, walking into the room. The two were on the couch, looking deep in conversation. Oh no. He didn’t get a chance to say anything before Max jumped up, smiling. He was wearing a pair of nerd-like glasses today, and a cute blue t-shirt. His hair bounced jauntily as he approached Ian.  
“Hey, Ian.” He looked bright and happy. Ian, on the other hand, felt like death.

“Hi.” Ian breathed, severely confused for what seemed like the twentieth time that week. “Um, how come you’re here?”

“I texted you to say I was coming over. It wasn’t my fault you were asleep.”

“Um, ah.” Ian smiled half-heartedly. “I guess you met Charlie?” He looked over to the girl on the other side of them room, who was watching them intently.

“Yeah, I did. Um, do you wanna show me to your room?” Max said, pointedly. Ian nodded, overwhelmed, still half asleep. He led Max down the hall.

“Sorry it’s not very tidy.” He said, adjusting his glasses, glancing at the boy behind him. Max followed him into the bedroom.

“Your walls are very boring.” Max remarked, looking around.

“Mmm, you’ve got tact.” Ian was bemused.

“Sorry.” He sat down on the bed, leaving Ian by the door. “Come ’ere.” He beckoned, motioning with a slim finger. Ian had no idea why he was being ordered around his own house, but he didn’t fight it. On the bed, Max brought a hand up to caress Ian’s jaw, causing him shudder. He smelt like nectarines.

“I really like you, Ian.” He said softly, bringing his lips close to Ian’s. Ian inhaled slowly.

“You’re not really conventional, are you.” Ian said, feeling himself melt under the boy’s touch.

“I don’t like to play games.” Their glasses were millimetres away from touching.

“What,” He breathed, still overcome. “Was last night then?” His lip curled a bit, irritated. Max pulled away, that never-ceasing smile growing on his smug face.

“Oh, that was just me being a cunt. Sorry.” He grinned. “Plus, I wanted to see if you’d still like me.”

“So, you invited yourself over to see if I do?” Ian questioned, shaking his head quizzically. He couldn’t get his head around this boy. To answer, a hand came to rest on his thigh. He closed his eyes, involuntarily letting out a soft gasp.

“Seems like you do.” Max smirked.

“Fuck you.” Ian glared.

“Oh, please do,” He smirked, kneeling up and bringing Ian up with him, pulling Ian in by the neck to connect their lips. He smiled into the kiss, other hand on Ian’s hip. Ian was melting. “You know, I-”

The door opened suddenly, and Finn stood there, looking down at his phone.

“Ian, there’s someone at the door for you, he-” They began, then seemed to notice what was happening. “AH, fuck, sorry! Um, there’s a dude at the door, shit, sorry, um-” They disappeared again, apologising profusely.

“Who’s he?” Max asked, sitting down.

“Um, that’s Finn- Um, I believe they use they pronouns. But _fuck_!” Ian jumped off the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked, concerned.

“I have a dude coming over for weed. I forgot. Fuck, _fuck.”_ He pulled at his hair. “I’m sorry. Stay there. _Fuck.”_

He roughly pulled open a draw, rummaged through it, then brought out a small bag. Grimacing, he set off towards the front door. Long strides brought him there swiftly, and lo, Chad was there, standing nervously against the wall. Ian almost burst into laughter at the sight of him. He was a fat kid with a baby face, and mousey shoulder length hair. He was wearing a pale blue polo shirt, and pink shorts, which hung off him awkwardly. As his eyes travelled downwards, he saw the boy was wearing socks, and he hoped desperately that he didn’t come here wearing sandals too. Good god.

“Um, hi. You’re Ian?” He said, looking anxious.

“Yeah, hi.” Ian held out a hand for him to shake. The poor boy took it nervously.

“I was expecting you to be um, more scary looking.” He blurted out, wringing his hands. Ian laughed.

“Nah, I’m just a normal dude,” He said wryly. “Come in, close the door behind you.” Chad closed the door tentatively, eyes flitting around as Ian sauntered into the kitchen.

“You’re not gonna sell me oregano, are you?” He said hesitantly, causing Ian to chuckle. “Um, cause I won’t fall for it.”

“Exactly how old are you, kid?” Ian asked, as he looked through the fridge.

“I’m eighteen, I swear.” He said, and pulled out his wallet. “I can give you ID, here!” He held up a driver’s licence, but Ian’s head was buried in the fridge. “Um,” the boy said tentatively, “You don’t keep weed in the fridge... do you?”

“No,” Ian retorted mirthfully. “I’m just thirsty.” He pulled a half empty bottle of Coke from the fridge and took a swig from it. “You want some?” The boy shook his head timidly.

 

Ian gave him the drugs, receiving crisp, unwrinkled notes of cash in payment. Ian wondered ironically if the boy ironed his money in his spare time. As Chad was about to leave, somebody called him, and his face visibly paled. Ian watched, amused, as the boy pulled out a rose gold iPhone, and began hurriedly answering questions. Ian heard him say something along the lines of “I’m just at Ben’s house!” as he left, the door closing quietly behind him. Still thinking about what it would be like to iron money, Ian returned to his bedroom, bearing two glasses of coke.

 

Max greeted him with a brilliant smile, as though he’d never left.

“Oo, thank you.” He said, taking the glass. “Drinking like kings, are we?”

“I’ve got some two minute noodles, if you really want a feast.” Ian smirked, sitting down on the bed. Max grinned enthusiastically, and wriggled up to the wall, leaning against it.

“Wouldn’t you like, sell drugs in a dark alleyway?” Max asked. “Or at least, not at your house.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you.” Ian shook his head. “This kid begged me to let him come here. I think he’s got real rich, fuckin, protective parents, y’know? Poor dude. Felt sorry for him.” Max laughed, and beckoned Ian closer.

“Anyway,” Ian ventured, settling down next to Max. “Why’d you –uh, go out with me? If you, ah- I thought you had something against drugs.”

“Oh, from that thing with George?” Ian nodded. “Nah. I just hate the dudes he buys it from. This one cunt kept saying dumb shit and trying to grope me, fuckin asshole.” Max cursed, grimacing.

“Ah.”

They ended up making out lazily on the bed, Max straddling Ian. It was a bit awkward, because their glasses kept clinking, but they chuckled through it. Max was teasing like always, expertly caressing Ian’s body and tugging at his hair, making Ian dangerously turned on. He tried to keep from moaning when Max bit his lip, sending tingles down his spine. Suddenly, an alarm went off from Max’s pocket. He clambered off him, and Ian huffed at the lack of contact.

“Oh shit. I’ve gotta go now, I’ve got work.” He pouted, looking sadly at Ian, who frowned.

“You’re leaving me again?” He asked.

“It takes a long time to get ready, okay? And this doesn’t count as _leaving_ , we weren’t officially doing anything.” Max reckoned, gathering his stuff. “Besides, it makes you more excited to see me next time.” He bent down, kissing Ian on the cheek.

“Cunt.”

“That’s right boy.” He said sardonically, making Ian roll his eyes. Just then, Ian’s phone rang. He looked at the screen, it was George calling him. Max noticed too, and he whispered “put it on speaker”, smiling cunningly. Ian did so.

“Hey, what’s up?” He opened, looking warily over to Max.

_“Hey dude, uh, are you free on Sunday? Do you wanna come over?”_

“Um, yeah, I am. Sure.”

 _“Cool, uh, you know my flatmate, Max?  That dude who yelled at you? He’s off work that night, and I feel like if he chilled out and got drunk with us he’d begin to like you. Y’know, and we could all be buddies.”_ George sounded childish and hopeful. Ian grinned,

“Sounds good, dude.”

 _“Sweet.”_ George hung up, and Max, who had been gleefully grinning the whole time, burst into laughter. Ian, after watching amusedly for a bit, remarked,

“What was that you said before, uh, about not playing games?”

Max just laughed. He left a moment after, waving goodbye to Finn (who blushed and ducked their head), and kissing Ian passionately on the door step.

“You’ve really fucked me up.” Ian farewelled grimly, as Max stood before him.

“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky next time.” He consoled, sauntering off to his car.

 

Ian sat on the doorstep, cold concrete hurting his ass, watching Max speed away. The sun was setting behind the rows of houses in front of him, a glowing golden canopy, covering the area in soft warm light. The overgrown grass on his spindly front lawn swayed in the slight breeze, and he watched as an old lady with an ugly poodle traipsed down the path. It was so clear, so serene looking, so different from the turmoil inside his mind (not to mention, the tension in his pants). Fuck. Sighing, he got up and entered his house, searching in the cupboards for the two minute noodles. Or in other words: Dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably post another chapter tonight. Happy New Years everyone !!! the thing with finn using they pronouns was a bit forced but I wanted it there because pronouns are important. Idk.


	6. King of The Horseflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk if you can dedicate chapters to people on here (???) (like if there's an actual feature) but this chapter is dedicated to "Holyshit" ; thankyou for always commenting, you make me rlly motivated to keep writing ( though sometimes i'm terrified of disappointing you) (but thankyou so much for the comments) I didn't update earlier today because i went to my friend's house for a Yuri On Ice marathon, haha. hope u enjoy, folks

 

The plug was plugged, the switch was switched, the lamp flickered on. Max smiled and sat back, happy with his work, enjoying the pink glow it gave. It really added the final touch to his bedroom.

 

Next to his bed, on his old and fake-antique French nightstand, a red lava lamp bubbled. Over his matching, chipping-paint dresser, fairy lights twisted around the frame of his large, ornate (but rusty) mirror. He sat beside another full length mirror, cross legged on the floor, enjoying the aesthetic of the room. They’d moved in a few months ago, with very little in the way of furniture. Eating on the floor, drinking cheap wine from Styrofoam cups, sleeping on air mattresses. Well, they still didn’t have a table, but at least they had a couch now, one Max had found in a second hand store, for only seventy bucks. When Max came home with it, George had made some sarcastic remark about seeing it before in a porno.

 

Hunting through op-shops was one of Max’s favourite things to do. Not only did he find great cheap furniture, he could buy the most outrageous women’s clothing and rejoice in the shocked looks of the religious ladies behind the counter. Bras, shoes, sparkly skirts- you name it, Max had bought it. He told himself the over-flowing wardrobe gave his room a rustic, lived-in feel. It didn’t matter anyway; it made him happy. He gave the lamp one last lingering look, then turned it off. It was only midday, and electricity was expensive. He got up off the floor and opened his dusty curtains, letting the early-January sunlight stream in.

 

Their house had a small back yard, most of the space taken up by a low, thick-branched tree and a rickety spinning clothesline. The people who had lived there before he and George had had small kids, and there was a partly mouldy, partly weta-infested platform built into the tree. Max thought it was sweet, and had once tried to climb up there, before getting spooked by the bugs. Fuckin huge-ass cricket looking things. Over their dilapidated back fence, there was someone else’s backyard, which was often overrun by inconsiderate, yapping children. He hoped they’d move out soon.

 

A loud knock distracted Max from his backyard musing, making him get off his bed and look down the hall to the front door. He saw a blurry outline, but before he could figure out who it was, he heard George yell,

“MAX! Get the door, I’m busy!” Max rolled his eyes; he was probably jacking off.

“Fuck,” He muttered, remembering he was wearing a full face of makeup, red lipstick and all. He probably looked like an overripe peach... The person knocked again. Oh well. He trudged to the door, opening it grumpily.

“Hi!” A lady stood there, and Max instantly noticed what she was holding: a tray of gingerbread men. She had a friendly looking face, freckles dotted across her tan skin. Max also noticed she was wearing crocs. He shuddered, trying not to grimace.

“Um, hi.” He said, still holding the door.

“I’m Melissa!” She smiled. “I just moved in a couple houses over, and I wanted to say hello to my new neighbours! Quite a lovely crop of spiders you’ve got here.” She looked up at them, still smiling.

“Those are my children, thank you.” Max said, emotionless. She didn’t seem deterred.

“I brought you some cookies as a welcome gift, may I come in?” She pressed, starting to push off her ugly shoes. Max was for once at a loss for words at her tactlessness, and sheepishly let her come in.

“Yes, sure.” He muttered angrily. “Make yourself at home.” She followed him into the lounge, not seeming to hear the sarcasm.

“So, do you live with anyone?” She chattered, sitting down on the couch, not even put off by the state of the room.

“Yeah, I do, um-” That moment, George walked into the room, sporting only a pair of spongebob boxers, and mismatching socks.

“Oh fuck man, you didn’t tell me we had a guest!” He squealed. Melissa laughed.

“Who’s this?” She said, turning towards Max.

“This is my gay lover, George.” He grinned sarcastically, making George frown.

“Dude, don’t scare her away, she has cookies.” He grumbled. They were both hovering awkwardly, looking at the woman who was calmly sitting on the couch.

“Don’t worry boys, you’re in the company of a wholly accepting woman. Even more reason to give you guys cookies.” She comforted, holding out the tray.

“Um, don’t the new neighbours usually _receive_ gifts of food?” Max asked, shoving a cookie in his mouth. He sat down, George did too, intrigued.

“Yes, but I wanted to meet you two! That woman from up the street has a _lot_ to say about you boys.” She began eating one of the ginger bread men herself. George, who seemed to have forgotten he was mostly naked, muttered,

“Sandra.”

“That bitch.” Max chimed in. Melissa laughed.

“Exactly! It doesn’t seem like _she_ has much fun in her life. Though,” She added, “She does make very good gingerbread men.”

Max choked.

 

-

 

“What a fuckin milf, dude.” George said, as Melissa finally closed the door behind her.

“Dude, leave her alone. She’s probably a lesbian, anyway.” Max chided.

“Mmm, bet she’s fucked Sandra.”

“George!” Max spluttered, looking incredulously at the boy, who was grinning cheekily. “God.”

“Anyway, um, remember that Ian guy? He’s coming over later, listen, I think you’ll like him if you get to know him.” George changed the subject, looking shifty.

“Oh?” Max said loftily, playing along. “Fine, I’ll be nice. Just for you, cause I’m such a _good_ friend.”

“Wowee, you saint, Max.” George muttered, walking off. Max smiled to himself, returning to his bedroom, thinking about what to wear. He was looking forward to seeing Ian again, and he kept getting warm tingles of excitement as he thought about the night to come. He’d admit it- he’d been thinking about the boy non-stop for days, finding himself constantly daydreaming, plotting, hoping. He wondered what underwear he should wear.

 

An hour or two passed, and Max’s heart jumped as he heard Ian at the door. George brought him in cheerily, and soon laughter began to echo its way into Max’s room. Max allowed himself one last look in the mirror, then set off towards the living room. Ian and George were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, beer cans in hand, deep in conversation. That is, until Max entered. Ian faltered and trailed off as he caught sight of the boy, almost dropping his beer. Max was wearing floppy grey sweater (to maintain a safe, calculated illusion of casualness), that drooped off one shoulder and went down pasts his hands. Underneath, he was wearing pale pink booty shorts that hugged his hips perfectly, and only barely covered his junk. He smiled sweetly at Ian.

“Hey Max, you’ve met Ian, yea? I mean I know you’ve met, but like, meet again.” George said, smiling widely. “I think you guys’ll get along. I’m- ah, I’m going to the toilet.” He got up, shuffling off. Max sat down gently next to Ian.

“Hey.” Ian said, looking at him with dark eyes.

“Hi Ian,” Max greeted. “Nice to meet you.” He set a hand down on Ian’s thigh, enjoying the boy’s reaction. It never seemed to get old.

“God, what are you doing to me, Max.” Ian said quietly. “Stop teasing me.”

“Mm?” Max smirked, leaning in close to Ian’s ear. “What are you gonna do about it?” He whispered, his hand crawling up Ian’s leg. Ian rolled his head back and grabbed Max’s jaw, connecting their lips roughly. Max responded eagerly, slightly surprised. He was just getting into it as George loudly fell back into the room, shrieking with laughter.

“I can’t- do this anymore – oh my god—” He spluttered, as Ian pulled away from Max, a shocked look forming on his face. Max blushed, watching George laugh hysterically.

“Um,” He began, at a loss for words.

“Sorry, - haha- guys,” George consoled, after he calmed down, patting Max on the shoulder patronisingly and sitting down beside him. “I knew there was something going on between you two since Thursday night, you dorks.” He began laughing again. “I can’t- I can’t stand to see you try to fool me anymore, Max. And my boy Ian here,” He gestured to Ian, who was mortified, quietly sipping at his beer, “is a nice boy. I know you’re probably being a real tease, stop being a cunt.” He chuckled, pleased with himself. Max huffed, cheeks a startling shade of red.

“Anyway, you guys wanna watch Chef? This chick I hooked up with let me borrow her DVD. I heard it’s great.” George continued, trying to lighten the atmosphere. The two boys agreed quietly, still embarrassed.

 

Ian wasn’t really paying attention to the movie, he was more focused on Max’s wandering hands. Or should he say, limbs. Every time he thought the touching had stopped, a hand gently tugged at his hair, or a foot trailed up his leg. The lights were turned off, and the only brightness coming from the TV screen, dumb movie blaring at them. George was lost in a pile of empty beer cans, and every time he left the room to piss, Max would get more courageous with his touches, or inch closer and closer to Ian. Eventually he was practically sitting on top of Ian, leaning his curly head back on his shoulder. A hand was resting right up on his inner thigh, and whenever Max moved his hand to yawn, or rub his eyes, (which was way more often than necessary), he’d brush lightly against Ian’s junk, keeping him agonisingly on edge. Ian hated how much power Max had over him, and how mesmerised he was by the boy’s pale thighs, curved shoulders, hot skin against his. He hated how Max smiled smugly every time Ian let out a gasp, and how expertly Max’s fingers traipsed over his tortured body.

“What are you, fourteen?” Ian whispered, during one of George’s toilet breaks. “Jesus Max, you’re so horny.” All the boy did was smile gleefully.

 

When the movie ended, George was on the floor, leaning against the couch. Max was fully on top of Ian, rubbing his butt against Ian’s crotch through the flimsy fabric of his shorts. It was past midnight.

“You may as well stay the night.” George said, getting up to turn off the TV (they’d lost the remote). “You can sleep on the sofa, or-” He finally caught sight of the scene on the couch. “-Max’s room.” He finished, sighing. “Fuck guys, just don’t be too loud.” He shook his head, walking out.

Max rolled off Ian, giving him a smug look. He didn’t even say anything, he just got up and sauntered off to his room. Ian groaned, following him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut coming next chapter ;)


	7. Dark Prince of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm regretting these fucking chapter names, lmao. FUck me. I think I ought to slow down the updates, bc there might be a time when i can't write, but every time i finish a chapter i just get really excited and want to publish it immediately, so idk. Here you go!!!!

“Fuck you.” Ian glared. Max batted his eyelashes at Ian, gazing at him seductively.

“Mm, yeah, fuck me.” He smiled, coquettish.

“ _Fuck_ you.” Ian repeated, grabbing Max by the waist and pinning him against the wall of his bedroom. Max yielded eagerly, tilting his head up to kiss the angry boy. He moaned a little as their lips connected, their bodies becoming closer and closer together, Ian’s hard hands gripping around him.

 

Max pulled away for a moment to turn on his lamp, and pink light flooded the room as he fell onto the bed. Ian clambered over him, peeling off his shirt in the process. Max undressed too, pulling off the oversized sweater but leaving on the shorts. Ian kissed him again, tough hand on his jaw, making Max wriggle with excitement. He fiddled with the button on Ian’s pants as they kissed, and pulled down his zipper. Ian moved off him to remove his pants, cursing under his breath. Max lay there, enjoying the look of Ian’s slender body in the dim, romantic light. His fists clenched and he shook his head impatiently.

“Hurry up.” He whined. Ian gave him a withering look.

“Oh, really?” He sounded mad. “You wouldn’t wanna be _teased_ , would you?” His intimidating tone made Max squirm.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad, Ian.” He replied quietly.

“Oh fuck you.” Ian glowered.

“Watch out boy, you’ll make me nut.”

“Don’t you dare.” He growled, throwing his pants to the side.

“There’s lube in the second drawer,” Max gestured towards it. “And condoms too.”

“If you think I’m bottoming I’m gonna fucking leave, I’m not kidding.” Ian said, staggering over towards the drawer in question.

“Oh come on Ian, do you really take me for a top?” Max giggled, disbelieving.

“Good.” Ian muttered, still looking angry, walking back towards the bed. He chucked the items down beside Max, who kneeled up, grinning. He pressed a hot kiss to Ian’s open mouth, then turned away and leaned down, ass in the air. Ian stared.

“Come on now.” Max said, wiggling his butt encouragingly.

“Fuck.” Ian breathed. “You’re a piece of work, Max.” His fingers gingerly trailed down the boy’s back, pulling the flimsy shorts down over the curve of his ass. He picked up the lube, opening the bottle and squirting a generous amount onto two fingers. Max wriggled the shorts down his legs, smiling. Slowly, Ian pushed one tentative finger into Max. The boy shuddered, his curly locks shaking, and he pushed back on Ian’s finger.

“I’m not a virgin, fuck, go faster.” He whined. Ian entered another finger.

“Ow!” Max yelped. “Not that fast, _bitch_.” He sulked.

“Sorry.” Ian muttered, slowing down. He moved his two fingers slowly, pushing into Max and stretching him out. Max whined, screwing his hands into fists and closing his eyes.

“Ah, shit.” He gasped, as Ian curled his fingers upwards. “You know what, just fuck me already.” He huffed.

“Put it in, piglet.” Ian muttered, laughing a little. Max turned towards him.

“What the _fuck_ , Ian?” His voice came out high-pitched. “Jesus Christ.” He shook his head at Ian’s muffled giggling. “Oh my god.” They both laughed. “I can’t believe you.” Ian apologised, shaking his head. “You ruined the mood.” Max accused, kneeling up in front of him.

“Sorry.” Ian said, kissing Max tenderly. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be,” Max said, picking up the condom and pulling down at Ian’s boxers. “You’re lucky I’m so forgiving.” Ian didn’t answer, just breathing lowly as Max gently put the condom on him. He sighed as Max turned back around, leaning down onto his elbows. Max’s hips were caressed softly as Ian lined himself up with the boy. He grunted as he pushed in slowly, and Max gripped the bedsheets, letting out a low wine as he clenched around Ian’s cock.

“Fffuck.” He groaned, pressing back on Ian. Ian tangled a hand into Max’s hair, cursing under his breath. “Go faster,” He protested, bored with Ian’s careful pace. Ian pulled on Max’s hair as he thrusted into the boy, making him yelp with pleasure, screwing his eyes shut. “Mm, fuck,” He moaned, forgetting to be considerate of George. The way Max responded so keenly made Ian gasp, watching the boy writhe beneath him. He buried his face in a pillow, gripping the sheets, back arched as Ian thrust into him desperately.

“Fuck, Max.” He grunted, as Max whimpered loudly, rocking his hips back. He grabbed Max’s shoulder, and pulled the boy up so they were both kneeling on the bed. Gripping a strong hand at Max’s neck, he pushed his face around and joined their lips in a sloppy kiss. His other hand travelled down the curved back in front of him, eventually curling around and making its way to Max’s straining hard-on. Ian buried his face in the crook of Max’s neck as he breathed harshly, jerking Max off in time with his deliberate thrusts. Max was putty in his hands, moaning obscenely as he was pounded into, with sweat glistening on his forehead.

“I’m close, fuck,” Max squealed, his legs his legs going weak. Ian went faster. Max  yelled out as he came, shooting spurts of hot cum into Ian’s clumsy hand, pushing his head back on Ian’s shoulder, face screwed up. His legs quaked and Ian struggled to hold him up, pressing messy kisses to his jaw. Ian came moments later, breathing hotly against Max’s face and slowing his jerky thrusts, grunting and cursing. He relaxed eventually and Max almost collapsed as he pulled out, face flushed and hair dishevelled.

“Good Lord.” He uttered, pulling the condom off. Max lay down, wiping his swollen, red lips.

“I’m gonna have a shower, wanna come?” Murmured Max, as Ian fell down breathlessly next to him. Ian shook his head. “Okay, bye then.” He got up dizzily off the bed, wobbling slightly. “Um,” He picked up a shirt and chucked it towards the boy on the bed. “You can put this on. Don’t go through my shit.” Ian nodded, watching him leave, trying to hide a limp.

When Max returned, he smiled sleepily and tucked himself in bed next to Ian. They gazed at each other, mesmerised, breathing slowly.

“You’re a mighty good fuck, Ian.” Max broke the ice, turning onto his back. “I think I’ll keep you around.” He grinned.

“Oh?” Ian challenged, jokingly rolling over, his back now facing Max. “Who says I’m gonna stick around?” He addressed the wall.

“I do.” Max said matter-of-factly, turning towards Ian and wrapping an arm around his warm body. “You’re not going anywhere.” He buried his head in Ian’s neck, snuggling up.

“Who would’ve thought _I’d_ be the little spoon.” Ian chuckled dryly, Max’s hair tickling his face. He hummed happily against Ian’s warmth, tucking his legs up behind Ian’s.

“You know,” He said softly, after a while. “Remember when I said something like _“oh, the things George has told me about you”_?” He didn’t get a response for a while.

“Yeah?” Ian mumbled eventually.

“Well,” Max continued, sheepishly, though slightly smug. “I was bluffing. I had no idea.”

 

-

 

A beam of sunshine streamed through a hole in Max’s ragged curtains, landing cruelly on Ian’s face. He groaned as it woke him up, and rubbed his eyes clumsily. His limbs felt tired and creaky, his mouth was terribly dry- and suddenly he became aware of the lack of a body beside him. Ian groaned, rolling over. Much too thirsty to stay in bed, he jerkily got up, catching sight of himself in the mirror. It was hard to see in the meagre light, but he thought he saw correctly: several dark, reddish-pink marks scattered across his neck and one of his collar bones. _Dear God_. He had on a baggy t-shirt and boxers, which deemed him fit to go out, to hunt down Max and hopefully a glass of water, too.

 

The clock in the kitchen said _11:32 AM_ (after some intense deciphering by Ian. It was one of those pretentious, irritating analog clocks that thought it was too cool for numbers). Max was standing in the kitchen, absentmindedly burning pancakes.

“Hello.” Grumbled Ian.

“Hi, _darling_.” Greeted Max, turning around cheerfully. “I’m surprised you’re up before noon!”

“Mm. Where are the cups?” Ian said, looking around awkwardly.

“Oh, they’re in that cupboard there.” Said Max, pointing. “Except, we don’t have any cups. Only mugs.”

“What the fuck,” Ian said, confused. Upon opening the cupboard, he was confronted with rows and rows of gaudy mugs, all shapes and sizes, a multitude of sickening colours.

“It’s a hobby.” Max explained, flipping a pancake. Ian dug out a tall, pink mug that said _“I like my coffee like I like my men... RICH!”_

“What the fuck?” He repeated, amused now.

“Hey, don’t laugh. We all have our kinks, buddy.” Max giggled. “I buy them from second hand shops. Something about crappy, dad-joke mugs really just gets me hard.” He explained, as Ian filled the mug up with tap water.

“Mmm.” He mumbled, drinking rapidly. Max continued to pile up pancakes, eating the ones that failed. “So, am I being treated to a five-star breakfast?” He asked, filling the mug up again. Max laughed.

“Sure, if you count packet-mix pancakes as five star.”

“Gee, what a life.” Ian glugged down another mug of water. “Do you have coffee?”

“Um, I don’t drink it, but I think we have some.” Max said, looking around. He opened a cupboard. “Yeah, here. Fucking nasty instant stuff, here you go.” He handed Ian a jar. Ian received it carefully, giving it a sniff. He grimaced, and Max laughed at him.

“Do you have sugar?” Ian asked, filling the kettle.

“Yeah, it’s in the same cupboard the coffee was in.” After Max explained to Ian how to adjust the switch on the kettle _just right_ in order for it to work, lectured him on wasting mugs, and Ian dumped a few teaspoons of sugar into the awful coffee, they sat down on the couch in the living room, armed with pancake-laden plates.

“You know,” Said Ian, through mouthfuls of pancake, “That hole in your curtains is a fucking pain in the ass.” Max glared.

“Don’t talk to _me_ about pains in the ass.” He grumbled, and Ian blushed.

“Oh.” That moment, George entered the room, shirtless. He the walked to the fridge, pulled out a loaf of bread, and put on the kettle before acknowledging Max and Ian were there.

“Hey boys,” He grinned, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth. “Had a nice night? Y’know, I think our neighbours had a great time listening in.” Ian started coughing, choking on a pancake. George sat down next to the two, and started teasing them.

“AH, FUCK IAN! YOUR COCK IS SO HUGE, AH, FUCK ME!” He squealed, in a high-pitched, mocking voice. “OH, MAX, YOUR BOY-PUSSY IS SO FUCKING TIGHT!” He howled, then broke into hysterical laughter. Max snorted, and began laughing too.

“Fuck you guys.” Ian peeved, trying not to smile. “That’s not even funny.” He sipped his coffee, exasperated.

“Aw, come on Ian.” George said, stealing a pancake from his plate. “Anyway. I think, to celebrate Max putting out, we should go out and party.” He grinned hopefully at the two, causing them to look sceptically at each other.

“It’s Monday, dude. Nobody parties on a Monday.” Ian said, adjusting his glasses.

“Dude... who cares.” George said, slowly, measured, as if he was making a great point. Max glanced at Ian, then back to George.

“What an apt point, Georgie!” Max exclaimed sarcastically. “But sure,” He continued, serious. “Why not.” They both looked to Ian, who frowned at them, but nodded.

They spent most of the afternoon on Max’s bed, having decided it wasn’t worth the petrol for Ian to go home; he could just shower here. They made fun of dumb YouTube videos and cuddled in a disgustingly cute way, causing Ian to keep muttering under his breath “fuck off, I’m not gay” to which Max would reply “Hi, not gay, I’m dad”, which in _turn_ would make Ian roll his ever-rolling eyes. They may have dozed off once or twice, curled up on the bed together, because 6 o’clock rolled around much earlier than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for the "put it in piglet", im so mad at myself for it, but i just couldn't take it out. real life sex is p awkward anyway, it makes it more realistic ?? idk. hope you enjoyed! leave a comment, kudos, bookmark, tell your friends, idk, i love validation,


	8. His Tragic Forces Are Heaven Sent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm so fucking in love with this story. it makes me so happy, it's so fun to write, i love it so much. just a reminder that there is no ultimate plot, there probably wont be anything heart-wrenching, no big conflict. I'm just having fun with my cute boys. i really hope you all enjoy this shit as much as i do

Max’s stomach churned as they clattered down the pavement, the greasy aftertaste of pizza still in his mouth. George staggered along a few steps in front of him, already pretty tipsy from the cheap wine they drank with dinner.

 _“Pre-game,”_ He’d slurred, clinking mugs with Ian, as Max sat next to them glumly, drinking tea. He’d lost a coin flip and had been appointed sober driver, much to his disgust.

 _“Cheers!”_ Ian had replied, giddily. Now they were making their semi-drunk way down the city street, towards some club. Ian was holding his clammy hand as they walked, swinging it between them, which Max thought was sweet. They stopped at the entrance of some sleazy club, and George said something authoritatively to the bouncer, who nodded solemnly, letting them in. Max flashed a flirty smile at the burly man as they walked past, making Ian squeeze his hand angrily. So then Max kissed his cheek sloppily, causing Ian to squirm and push the boy away, grimacing. George rolled his eyes at them, leading them into a large, spacious room. As they entered, loud music hit them full force, thumping through Max’s ears. He watched people dancing drunkenly on a dark dancefloor, in front of some edgy-looking DJ, who was jumping up and down erratically. They all looked incredibly spaced out, and he wondered idly what kind of drugs they were all on. Colourful lights swung around, and Max watched with quiet amusement, as Ian blinked, unsettled. Ian said something unintelligible to him, shaking his head.

 

They followed George to a table on the side of the large room, where they had a decent view of the dance floor and bar, but the music wasn’t too deafeningly loud. This seemed to please Ian. They sat down on squishy plastic-feeling chairs, facing each other over a dirty table. George tumbled off to the bar, saying something about getting drinks.

 _“Getting drunk is fucking expensive nowadays,”_ He’d grumbled, drinking straight from the bottle. _“This wine was only seven dollars.”_ He grinned.

Now Max watched him, chatting up the scantily-clad bartender. He felt sorry for her.

“What is this place?” Asked Ian, snapping Max out of his thoughts.

“I think George’s friend is playing.” He said, giving Ian a smile. They watched George together, who seemed to have bought (or cajoled) a drink from the sexy bartender. He didn’t appear to be coming back any time soon. As weird electronic music thrummed through Max’s head, he watched Ian lean back and breathe deeply, looking overwhelmed. “Not your scene?” Max asked, enjoying Ian’s look.

“I’m a stoner, Max.” He rolled his eyes. “Not a, a-” He searched for words, gesturing vaguely. “...Raver.”

“Mm, yeah, you know me,” Max grinned. “ _Always_ raving. You haven’t even seen me in my legwarmers yet.” He teased. Ian rolled his eyes, smiling crookedly. “So anyway, how’d you meet George? If you don’t... rave?”

“I met him at a college party. I was only invited because I had weed, and this... girl was trying to get into my pants.”

“Oo, I didn’t know you were a ladies man, Ian.” Max grinned. “But wait, you went to college?” Ian looked embarrassed.

“Kind of... I dropped out after a year.” He smiled grimly. “Did you?” Max laughed.

“No, I, um-” He began, then faded out, becoming quiet.

“Hm?” Ian prodded.

“Um, I’ll tell you later.” Ian gave him a quizzical look, which he ignored. “Isn’t it funny, though,” Max continued, “George is the only one of us with a degree, and he fucking spend his days making shitty underground music.”

“Hey,” Ian scolded. “He’s having fun, let him.”

“Yeah,” Max said. “Why aren’t we having fun? We’re sitting here, talking about education, what _losers_.” He rolled his eyes over-dramatically. “Come on, let’s go.” He got up, and pulled a limp Ian towards the dancefloor.

They pushed (actually, Max dragged Ian) through the throng of people on the dancefloor. They all seemed to be in their own drug-fuelled bubbles, bouncing messily to the pounding music. Max pulled Ian clumsily against him, grabbing his hips and moving to the rhythm. Ian looked awkward, but let Max push him around. Max pulled a hand through his messy hair, smiling up at Ian as they danced. Well, Max danced. Ian just swayed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Max brought a hand up to his hot neck, pulling him down and speaking in his ear.

“Loosen up!” He yelled, but Ian didn’t seem to hear, shaking his head. Max rolled his eyes, pulling him in for a passionate kiss, in the middle of the dancefloor. Ian melted under Max’s touch, the way Max loved. He grabbed Ian’s ass, pulling their bodies closer together, grinding on him messily.

They made out for who knows how long, occasionally being bumped by other people, or being hit by flailing limbs. In the middle of a song change, when the air was almost quiet for a moment, George pulled them apart.

“There you guys are!” He said, his voice sounding muffled. “I’ve been looking all over, come on, I’ve gotten us drinks.” They stumbled back to the table they had sat at earlier. George seemed cheerful, and Ian seemed desperately turned on. Just how Max liked him. Sitting down on the squishy chairs, a woman joined them, giggling at something George said. He pulled her in for an disgusting, open-mouthed kiss, which she reciprocated eagerly, tangling a hand in his dark hair.

“Is that what we look like?” Ian said in Max’s ear, then fake gagged. “Ew.” Max laughed at him. The lady broke apart from George, and giggled again, saying something about work. She tripped away, returning to the bar. He turned to them, smiling smoothly.

“Got you boys free drinks, you can thank me later.” He flashed a cocky grin.

“I can’t drink, you cunt.” Max said, glaring at the glass in front of him.

“Oh yeah.” He replied, and swiftly pulled Max’s glass towards himself, then began drinking it down. “Sucks to be you.” That made Ian chortle, and Max kicked him under the table. Ian was about to say something, then the happy expression dropped from his face and he looked- afraid? Embarrassed? Max had no idea.

“Fuck.” He muttered, looking over to another table.

“What?” Both Max and George said in unison.

“Remember when you were at my house and this kid came over?” Ian said, in hushed tones. “He’s over there.” Max peered over, seeing a fat dude hovering around a table full of white, rich looking kids. They seemed to be teasing him.

“Dude, he looks like he’s getting bullied!” George said, craning his neck around. Max grinned meanly.

“Hey, let’s invite him to hang out with us.”

“What, no! He’s a loser.” Grumbled Ian, but Max was already getting up to go talk to him. He reached the table just as the kid turned away, the sitting down people snickering.

“Hey, I’m Max.” He said, addressing the fat guy. He was wearing a dumb looking purple shirt, and a flashy watch sparkled on his chubby wrist. He looked up, surprised, and shook Max’s waiting hand.

“Um, hi?” His hand was clammy. “I’m Chad.” Chad said, confused. Max drew him away from the table of people, saying excitedly,

“I saw those people being dicks. Wanna come sit with us?” He looked over to George, who was laughing, and Ian, who was shaking his head frantically.

“Um, ah-” Chad began, but Max didn’t let him finish.

“Dude, come on. They’ll love you.”

Max sat back down next to a mortified Ian, and motioned for Chad to sit next to George.  
“Hi,” George said, shaking the confused boy’s hand. “Why were those people being assholes?”

“I got invited to this dude’s birthday, and um, I ah, asked out his girlfriend, by um, accident.” Chad mumbled. Ian burst into laughter.

“Yo, don’t be a dick, Ian.” George said, and Max nodded. “Be like, a Not-Dick, dude.” He patted Chad on the back. “I guess he didn’t take it well?”

“More like, I’ll never be invited to a party ever again.” Chad looked sad.

“You can party with us!” George smiled widely. Max nodded, enjoying Ian’s annoyance.

“How’d you even get here?” Ian finally spoke, voice laced with cruel amusement. “What’d you tell your mummy?” Chad looked terrified.

“I snuck out.” He answered, looking down. George grabbed him forcefully by the shoulder, whooping.

“Woo, we’ve got ourselves a rebel!” He celebrated. Ian shook his head, exasperated.

 

Chad and George oddly seemed to get along pretty well; so well that neither Max nor Ian could a word in edgeways. Which, well, left them free to make out like teenagers. Max could taste alcohol on Ian’s breath as they kissed, making him shudder and pull him in closer, leaning uncomfortably against the wall. Ian loosened up more and more the more alcohol George fed him, and eventually he was just giggling against Max’s mouth, his glasses foggy, lips red and bitten. Max thought it was incredibly cute, and grabbed him by the neck, connecting their messy lips again. Ian was in a daze, responding eagerly, eyes closed as Max worked him up. Eventually, George spoke up.

“Guys, that’s really gross.” He shook his head, chuckling gently. “Get a room, faggots.” Chad giggled in confirmation.

“Oh.” Ian mumbled, his face flushed. Max pushed him up, straightening his pants and fixing his hair. Ian struggled to stand up straight. They made their slow way to a bathroom, having to go through the jungle of dancing people to get there. He made it out eventually, and looked back but Ian was nowhere to be seen. Fuck. He pushed back through the bodies, hating the feeling of sweaty limbs against his body. He made it into an almost clear spot just in time to see Ian yelling something angrily at a scary looking man.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” The man growled, bald head shining intimidatingly. Max tried to jump forward, but his legs felt frozen, stuck to the ground. He watched, petrified.

“I said,” Ian slurred, looking frail and weak compared to the hulking man. “You’re a fucking idiot, that’s not how it works, cunt.” His words sounded sharp and mean, penetrating the atmosphere and making many people fall quiet. Oh lord. Max suddenly burst forward, breaking free and trying to jump in front of Ian, who was glaring fearlessly at the tall man. However, he didn’t get there fast enough. All he could hear was a loud grunt and a horrible smacking noise as an enormous fist impacted Ian’s face, his glasses flying off and hitting the floor by Max’s frantic feet.

 

-

 

“You fucking idiot.” Max muttered, as he dabbed gingerly at Ian’s face. “You fucking idiot.” He repeated, quieter. Ian winced as the cloth was pressed extra hard on his swollen cheek.

“Ow.” He whined, eyes half closed. He seemed to have sobered up a bit.

“I’ve never been kicked out of a club before.” Max grumbled, wiping blood from Ian’s chin.

“Aw, we’re creating new memories together.” Ian chuckled grimly, sniffing. He’d been punched in the cheek, but his nose had begun incessantly bleeding as soon as they had stepped out onto the street. And then, Max had dragged two inebriated and/or wounded men into the tiny car, and began driving them home. Ian had been too drunk to realise his nose was bleeding, and had let it drip dully from his nose, onto his face, shirt, and car upholstery, which made Max shudder.

“This is my shirt, too.” He grimaced, peeling it off Ian and throwing it in the bathtub. Ian murmured something in response. They’d somehow made it to Ian’s dingy flat, and Max had left George sleeping messily in the car, hauling a limp Ian into his house. It was almost 2 AM, and all the lights were off, but had Max fumbled his way to the bathroom, sitting Ian down against the edge of the bath, on the dirty tiles. Blood continued dripping from his nose, making it look as though there’d been a massacre in the grimy bathroom. Now, straddling Ian, Max was attempting to clean the disaster in front of him.

“Idiot.” He muttered again. He got off the boy and searched in a cabinet for a first aid box, one of which he found, behind an overflowing box of condoms. It was severely lacking in anything useful, but he found some Panadol, which he shoved into Ian’s bloody mouth, sighing. “Will you be alright if I go now?” He asked tenderly, thinking of George, alone and mugg-able in the car outside. Ian nodded, eyes glazed over. Max handed him his dirty glasses from the bathroom sink. “You’re lucky they’re not broken.” He said, shaking his head.

 

Ian let himself be undressed, almost falling over as he clumsily stepped out of his blood-stained pants. He fell like a rag-doll as Max (gently) pushed him into bed, and tucked him in, looking grim. “Fucking idiot,” He grumbled, again, as he pattered into the kitchen, filling a glass of water. When he made his way back to the bedroom, and placed the glass on Ian’s bedside table, the boy was already sound asleep, drooling softly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> max is such a caring and lovely dude


	9. In Sweet Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one's a lil corny. *Insert overplayed laugh track here*  
> also, PINK SEASON CAME OUT and i just hit 700 followers on tumblr so I'm a happy boy!! I hope you all are having good days!!

 

“MAX!” George yelled out, as he came home, a couple of days later. “WE GOT ANOTHER ONE!” He chirped, a big grin on his face. He ran into Max’s room, holding a pink piece of paper.

“Huh?” Max looked up. He had his glasses on, and was on his bed, reading a book.

“Dude. Dude.” George said, plonking himself down next to Max. “A letter.”

“I don’t know why they don’t just come knock on our door.” Grumbled Max, putting the book down.

“Probably think we’ll abduct them. I don’t even know how they get past Spud.”

“Spud?” Max frowned at George, who was smiling cheerfully.

“The spider who lives in the letterbox.”

“Oh!” Max exclaimed sarcastically. “How _silly_ of me!” He saw George pout. “Anyway, what does the letter say?” He asked. George unfolded it, holding it out so they could both read it.

 

_To the occupants of Number 18,_

_I’m sure you’re aware of how much pride we take in the tidiness of Gossamer Street. I’ve noticed that in front of your house, you have quite the overgrown yard! I happen to have a very bright young son, Brayden, who just turned 13. He’d be quite willing to help you clean up your property, for only $4 an hour. I really do think that it would be a worthy investment, and Brayden is a lovely lad. Come knock on our door if you’re interested!_

_Best wishes,_

_Debbie Howard (Number 12)_

 

“Hm,” George said, shaking his head jokingly. “Debbie is proposing _child labour_.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Ha!” Max snorted. “Four dollars an hour, that’s like... How long do you think it would take to clean the yard?”

“A good afternoon... we’re looking at like, fuckin... twenty bucks.” George figured. “I’m offended, do they really think we’re that poor?”

“George,” Max shook his head. “We _are_ that poor.”

“Good point.”

“What do you think though, should we give poor Brayden a chance?” Max asked, peering at the note. “He’s probably looking forward to getting away from his mum.”

“Max, are you getting soft on me?” George scolded lightly. “Since when are we compassionate towards spoilt-ass kids?”

“I dunno, the yard is pretty gross...”

“I like it that way.” George grumped, but Max shot him a look. “Fine...” He relented. “But you’re paying.”

 

-

 

“So... what number date is this?” Ian asked one afternoon, voice muffled by the screeching of metal coat hangers.

“Um...” Max looked up, thinking. “Three point five?” He said, over the clothing rack.

“How’d you figure that out?” Ian said, peering at an odd-looking fur coat.

“Well,” Max explained, counting on his fingers. “There was date number one, that’s one,” Ian nodded. “Me crashing your house counts as point five. You coming over is another point five, and then... going out and getting wasted was almost one.” He scrunched his face up, looking confused.

“You know, those glasses make you look smarter than you actually are.” Ian said slowly, breaking into a laugh. “I don’t think that adds up.” Max threw a red fedora at him, scowling,

“Come at me, I’ll fucking wreck you.” Ian threw a faded pink basketball over the clothing rack.

“Fight me, cunt.” He sounded angry, but Max could hear humour in his voice.

“What do you think of this?” He said, changing the subject. He held up a sparkly black dress, high enough for Ian to see part of it over the rack.

“Hm... It kinda screams _“I’m a cougar prostitute”,_ dude.” Ian tsked, shaking his head solemnly. Max chuckled, putting it back on the rack. He’d taken Ian out op-shopping, much to Ian’s _manly_ disgust.

“I’m surprised you took me out after I got beaten up so humiliatingly.” Ian said, after a while of browsing, every couple minutes Max holding up an item to receive a cynical opinion. “I didn’t think you’d date losers.” Max looked at Ian’s cheek, which was sporting a painful looking greenish-coloured bruise.

“You know, honestly Ian, the way your nose gushes blood just really turns me on.” He sniggered, making Ian roll his eyes. “Ha! What about this!” He held up a sheer pink nightgown-ish thing. Ian grimaced. “It’s actually really cute, I’m putting it in the cart, screw you.” Max stuck out his tongue rudely.

“Can we uh, go to the Manchester section? I really want to discover a new shade of beige.” Ian said eventually. “I’ve had enough sparkles for today.”

“But honey, crockery is where it’s at!” Max said in a posh voice, smiling widely.

“Oh, is that where you pick up your hoes?” Ian asked, adjusting his glasses. He walked around the end of the clothing rack, so he was on the same side as Max.

“Yeah, yeah, I get mad _pu_ ssy in the kitchen aisle, dude.” He linked arms with Ian, and they walked along, their steps echoing loudly on the battered wooden floor. Max’s trolley banged and crashed behind them, the wheels near falling off.

“It smells like seven year old porridge in here.” Ian said, looking around the large warehouse, which housed a maze of clothing racks and shelves, all filled to the brim with various strange items.

“This is my home, Ian.” Max chuckled. “Don’t insult it.”

“Your home smells like dusty vagina.” Ian grumbled, making Max squeal in shock.

“Dude! You’ll insult the Helens!” He said, in a sharp whisper, looking at Ian and then frantically over his shoulder.

“The Helens..?” Ian asked, looking incredulous.

“The ladies who work here.” Max smiled devilishly. “They give me discounts because I listen to stories about their dumb grandchildren, and I pretend to go to church.”

“Oh.” Ian caught on. “You pretend to be a _good_ boy.” He grinned. “You’re a cheeky fella, Max.”

“I’m _your_ cheeky fella, buddy.” He slid next to Ian, and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Wait, actually,” He moved away, “Let’s not be too gay. I am a child of god, after all.” This made Ian roll his eyes, but smile fondly. They kept walking aimlessly, until they came across a huge, sickly green, faux- leather couch. Ian ran ahead when he caught sight of it, and promptly sat down.

“I feel like, like a royal frog.” Ian said, chuckling, a regal arm placed on the arm rest.

“If I kiss you, will you turn into a prince?” Max giggled, catching up.

“N-no,” Ian replied, fixing his glasses. “I’ll just turn into a—a bigger frog.” He laughed, and Max looked at him fondly. As Ian’s laughter faded out, he caught Max staring. “I thought you said not to be gay, dude,” He said, getting up. “You’re being really fucking gay.”

“Shutup, I just like you.” Max pouted, giving Ian a playful shove. “It’s not my fault you’re so darn cute.”

“Watch out, Maxy-boy,” Ian pushed him back. “I’m gonna get an affection boner.”

 

They ended up in a quiet nook, where there was a small couch surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of disty books.

“You could get lost in here.” Ian muttered, almost tripping over a book titled “300 SIMPLE GARDENING TIPS FOR THOSE WITH ARTHRITIS”. They sat down on the little couch, which sunk incredibly low under their weight.

“Yikes.” Max grumbled, brushing his fluffy hair off his forehead.

“What were you gonna say the other night, about not going to college?” Ian asked, adjusting his glasses nervously.

“Oh! Um, yeah. Um,” Max stumbled, looking down. “Do you really wanna know?”

“Yes.” Ian’s eyes bored into his head. “Max?”

“Well then. Um, I ran away when I was seventeen.” Max said, pulling his legs up onto the rickety couch. “I’d just finished school and there was this... guy.” He saw Ian nod out of the corner of his eye. “He was kinda old, but he was like, really cool? And I went to live with him.” He twiddled his thumbs. “George was the only one I told when I left, and he told me not to go, but I didn’t listen.” Ian made an understanding noise. “So this dude payed for my first year of college. He was kinda like a sugar daddy.” He laughed half-heartedly. “But he kept cheating on me. Like, not once. Like, over and over again, but he kept telling me he loved me, so I stayed with him.” He shook his head, breaking into a smile. “This is like some dumb dramatic backstory. I promise, it’s not that fucked up.” He looked at Ian, who smiled gingerly, motioning for Max to go on. “I eventually realised, after George had told me like, thousands of times, that he was a prick. But I was kinda stuck right? He was paying my way through college, giving me somewhere to live, and like, my family hated me, so I was like, what the fuck do I do. So eventually I’d had enough, it was after like, a year and a bit, and I was like, fuck this.” He chuckled dryly. “So I uh, ran away, _again,_ and moved in with George, and while he was getting his fuckin business degree, I walked the streets.” Ian snorted, looking shocked.

“Are you serious?” His eyes were wide.

“No, not really.” Max gave in, smiling. “I was a cam girl for a bit though.”

“Man, that’s hot.”

“Not really. I got like, a bad reputation because I yelled at this dude and called him a cunt.” He shook his head, trying not to giggle. Ian burst into laughter though, and soon Max did too.

“Oh my god,” Ian sighed. “I didn’t know you had such an interesting past.”

“Well, what about _your_ past?” Max asked, looking at Ian quizzically. Ian squinted, chewing on his lip.

“Nothing like yours. I guess, like, the biggest shake-up of my life was my parent’s divorce.” He adjusted his glasses.

“Yeah?” Max was looking at him fondly. “How old were you?”

“Eight.” Ian grimaced. “I got bullied at school because people thought my mum was a lesbian.” He made a face.

“When all along,” Max laughed. “ _You_ were the gay.” He leaned his head on Ian’s shoulder, and hugged his arm.

“Nah,” Ian said dryly, adjusting his glasses. “I think my mum is actually a lesbian.”

“Oh.” Max said, then snorted, and they both broke into laughter again.

-

“Well, I think we’ve been suitably gay enough, Max, what do you think?” Ian said eventually, shifting Max’s head off his shoulder. “Didn’t we come here to buy clothes or something?”

“Mm, yea.” He replied, getting up and stretching. “Will you be paying, seeing as this is technically a date?”

“No! Fuck off.” Ian retorted. “Buy your own damn lingerie.”

“Hmph!” Max huffed, crossing his arms. “And I _thought_ you were a good boyfriend.” He stomped off, leaving Ian smiling a little. Boyfriend. _Boyfriend_. He followed after, and lo and behold, ended up paying for the clothes. After waving goodbye to the Helens, they made their way into Max’s shitty car, and began driving home. It was some time in the afternoon, and as they drove, they saw some kids on scooters almost get run over. Wow, what a world.

“Are you taking me to yours?” Ian asked, peering over at Max. The boy grinned.

“Yeah,” Ian could hear humour in his voice. “I was just thinking about how much I was craving dick right about now.”

They heard music thumping through the house as they entered. Max yelled out a greeting to George as he shuffled off his shoes, but no response came. Oh well. Ian tumbled onto Max’s bed, after Max closed the door and his curtains. He’d chucked the clothing bags down, and begun undressing before Ian had even settled. As Max clambered onto him, Ian breathed,

“You weren’t joking about the needing dick.”

“Mm,” Came Max’s distracted reply. He was tugging at Ian’s shirt. “Off.” He muttered. Ian complied. Max got off him suddenly, and walked over to an old-looking CD player. He rummaged through some CDs, and put on something punky that sounded very reminiscent of 2002. Ian sat on the bed leaning against the wall, watching as Max then pulled off his pants, and returned to him.

“You’re so beautiful Max,” He muttered, as Max peppered his neck and torso with kisses, his chocolatey hair swaying lightly.

“I know,” He said, now undoing Ian’s pants. “Thanks.” Ian chuckled a bit as he wriggled out of his shorts- oh, and underwear followed straight afterward. Max grabbed his shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss, and their glasses clinked together, making them both laugh. Retrying, they angled themselves better, and kissed slowly, as Max’s hands travelled all over Ian’s body. Ian pulled down Max’s underwear, and Max manoeuvred out of them, handing Ian the lube- which he seemed to pull from nowhere.

“Go to town,” Max said softly in Ian’s ear, moaning softly as Ian pushed a finger into him. He sighed, rocking back, his hands making their way down Ian’s cock, and began softly stroking. “Ah,” He gasped, pushing back on a second finger. Ian kissed his neck as he straddled him, Max grinding down on Ian’s slowly moving fingers. Max shifted slightly, grabbing a condom from somewhere Ian didn’t see, and began putting it on Ian’s erection. Max groaned, then, as he lined himself up, and sat slowly down on Ian’s cock. The both exhaled loudly, Max biting his lips and Ian’ gripping at his hips.

“Fuck,” Max moaned, as he raised himself, two hands on Ian’s shoulders. Ian groaned shakily as Max tipped his head back, coming down again. His fingers dug into Ian’s skin, and he whimpered softly as he pressed down as far as he could go. Soon, he was bouncing up and down giddily on Ian’s cock, both their noises drowning out the music in the background. Max hoped he’d get bruises from how hard Ian’s fingers were pressing into his hips. Ian jerked off his dick as he rode him, pushing Max over the edge. Obscene noises poured from his open mouth as he came, clenching around Ian’s cock, throwing his head back. Ian groaned loudly as he came too, and Max slowed his movements, still moaning quietly.

“Fuck,” Max murmured against Ian’s skin, as he pulled out of the boy, breathless. “Mmm,” He sighed, head in the crook of Ian’s neck, his body heavy and limp. Ian kissed his head gently, humming softly to the music.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am probably going to upload again later today. uwu.


	10. In A Lover's Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max has a brief encounter with vague parenting, George gets his heart broken and tries to scare a lil kid. shout out to my cuz brayden

Max woke with a start a couple days later, hearing a loud noise from outside his bedroom door. It took him a moment before he figured out that the noise was a voice, and that it was directed at him.

“WAKE UP, THE KID’S HERE!” It was George.

“The kid..?” He groaned, blinking slowly. “What kid?” His bedroom door was flung open, and George stood there, half naked (like always).

“Dude, Bailey, or whatever. Child labour dude. You deal with him, I’m too fucking high for this.” He looked terrible. Max winced as he sat up too fast, his head spinning dizzily.

“Fucking hell...” He grumbled, putting his glasses on, and checking his phone. “It’s fucking eight in the morning.” He screwed up his face as he breathed in, and glared at George. “You smell like weed, you rat. Get out of my room.” George frowned, but shuffled away. Max stumbled out of bed and pulled on a shirt, heading towards the door. He was still rubbing his eyes as he opened it, and he winced again as the bright daylight hurt his eyes. _And there he was._

 

Yesterday, Max had awkwardly walked over to Debbie’s house, to accept her dumb offer. She had colour co-ordinated rows of Freesias in _her_ front yard, and a prim white letter box with _no_ rust on it, and a dumb looking garden gnome that held up a little sign saying _WELCOME!_ Though, Max certainly hadn’t felt very welcomed. A frizzy-haired lady in her forties had opened the door, looking both shocked and frightened at the sight of Max. He’d tried his best to look not-scary, but maybe his paint-splattered sweatpants threw her off. Or maybe it was his red nail polish. Who knew? She’d said something about it being very late, and that the Bright Young Son in question was in bed. It had only been 9 PM. She didn’t let him in, but he explained that he thought she made a great offer, and would be interested in grossly underpaying her son to clean their lawn. She smiled fakely, and said that that would be just _grand_ , and could he come over tomorrow? Max had agreed, then had a door shut ~~briskly~~ politely in his face.

 

So, here was the kid. He was short and skinny, and had a headful of golden yellow curls on his head. His eyelashes looked blonde too, as they caught the light, the boy looking curiously up at him. His small mouth fell open at the sight of Max, who was wearing hot pink pyjama shorts and fuzzy yellow socks.

“Hello, um, Mr Stanley? I’m um, Brayden, uh, nice to meet you!” He said, obviously trying his best to sound bright and happy, as if he’d been told exactly what to say.

“Hi,” Max scowled. “Um, come inside. I just woke up, but you can come, uh, sit down while I, uh, get changed.” He moved aside for the boy to come in, but he stayed there on the doorstep. “Brayden?” Max suddenly felt very old.

“My mum told me not to –um, come inside. I’ll just ...wait out here.” He said, squinting up at Max. The boy’s squeaky voice hurt his tired ears.

“Ok, suit yourself.”  He muttered, turning back down the hallway. He reached his room and pulled open the curtains, sneering at the cheery sunshine that streamed in. After pulling on some proper clothes, and putting in his contacts, he trudged back down the hall, only to see George standing there, swaying slightly as he talked to Brayden. He was still shirtless.

“...Just don’t touch my fucking spiders.” George was saying, trying to be intimidating. It was a pathetic attempt, but the kid looked terrified.

“George! Leave Brayden alone! Also, put some clothes on you slimy cu- I mean, um, greaseball.” He scolded, glaring. “They’ll think you’re trying to molest him.” He said, quieter, though Brayden could probably still hear him.

“Who the fuck is _they_?” He replied. “I’m just standing up for what I believe in, dude.” He stuck his tongue out at Max, who pushed him away, glaring.

“Um, sorry Brayden.” He addressed the kid who was still in the doorway, looking fascinated.

“Oh, that’s ok, Mr Stanley.” He chirped. “Shall I get to work?”

“Just call me Max, dude.” Max shook his head, bemused. He stepped outside, and shuffled his feet into worn out jandals.

“Um, okay, Max.” Brayden said tentatively. He followed closely behind Max as he tramped along the path to the unused garage. There, he wrenched open the door (the lock had broken months ago), coughing at the dust that fell off it.

“I’m sure we have like, garden shi—I mean, stuff, in here.” He said, squinting. Brayden stood outside, kicking his feet in the dust. A pile of cardboard boxes almost toppled onto Max as he rummaged, barely able to see in the messy garage. He eventually found his way to pair of grimy garden shears.

“Aw, come _on_ , they’re fucking rusty as _SHIT!”_ He yelled, irritated. He turned around, to see Brayden still standing outside the door, eyes wide and mouth open with shock. Max put his head in his hands, exhaling slowly. He found a rubbish bag, and some gloves, and threw them lazily towards the kid.

“Here.” Max grumbled. “You can pull out the big weeds. I’ll find the lawnmower later.” Brayden nodded obediently, and got to work, as Max scuffed back inside.

 

George was lying on the couch now, gazing blankly at the ceiling. Max dragged his socks over the carpet, making his way to the kitchen. The whole room smelt like weed.

“Holy shit dude,” Max shook his head. “Why are you high so early in the morning?”

“I didn’t sleep...” Came George’s hoarse reply. “...It’s actually just really, really late at night.”

“And you couldn’t smoke in your own fucking room?” He asked, putting on the kettle, a tea bag in a mug. (It was pale pink, and said “CUNT” using the handle as the C. It was his favourite).

“Dude... Chad is straight.” George ignored his question, still staring at the ceiling. “He’s... straight.”

“Okay?” Max retorted. “Who gives a shit?” George didn’t answer. As the kettle slowly boiled, it dawned on him. “Oh.”

George made a disgruntled noise.

“I can’t believe you have a crush on a kid, Georgie!” Max blurted out, as he poured the water on his teabag. He tried not to laugh as he heard a pained groan from the couch. “Oh my god.” He leaned against the bench, looking at the boy curled up on the couch.

“He’s eighteen, you cunt. You were off with that... dude, when _you_ were just a sapling.” He was trying to sound mean, but it came out pitiful.

“Hey now,” Max sat down next to him with his tea, and patted his shoulder gently. “Do you think now that you’re heartbroken you’ll make better music?” George didn’t laugh.

“Fuck off, Max.” He grumbled. Max apologised, and went to move away, but then on second thought pulled him into a sitting position, and gave him a tight hug. George struggled, but succumbed, eventually returning the hug, his head resting limply on Max’s shoulder. Max rubbed his sweaty back, comforting his friend. George sighed.

“The blonde kid better not be upsetting the spiders.”

“Don’t worry, Georgie. I’m sure he’s terrified of them.” He said softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Mmmm.” He sighed, resigned. “He better be.”

 

After Max had finished his tea and opened the windows (to get out the smell), he left George sleeping on the couch, and went out to check on Brayden. The kid was diligently pulling out weeds, a couple of trash bags neatly tied up by the garage.

The sun was beating down, and there was barely any breeze blowing. It was so terrible Max wished he’d never even opened the door.

“Fuck, dude,” He said, staying on the doorstep. “You got sunscreen on, Brayden?” He squinted at the kid, who looked over wearily.

“Um, yeah I do.” He tried to smile, but just looked weak. Max felt sorry for him.

“Do you wanna come inside for a drink?” He called. Brayden’s eyes widened, then he looked over to his house, where no cars were to be seen.

“Sure!” He grinned, coming towards the front door.

“I thought you were told not to come inside?” Max asked quizzically, leaning against the doorframe as the boy approached him.

“My mum’s gone out for lunch.” Brayden said, squinting up at him, childish teeth sticking out. Max chuckled, letting him in.

 

Brayden sat down tidily on a chair, looking with awe at the sleeping man splayed out on the couch.

“Ignore him, he’s high as a ki- I mean, he’s really, really tired.” Max messed up, then rolled his eyes at himself.

“I know what weed is.” Brayden said quietly. “My Aunty does it.”

“Oh?” Max chuckled, surprised. “You’re not as sheltered as I thought, dude.” He opened the fridge. “Want some pepsi?” He asked, inspecting the bottle to see how flat it was. He heard a shocked gasp.

“I’m not allowed to drink pepsi.” Brayden said, sounding as though he was trying to hide excitement. Max snorted.

“Okay, I take back what I said about being sheltered, good god.” He held up the bottle. “You want some though?” Brayden nodded promptly, eyes wide. “Don’t tell your mum.” Max said as he handed him a mug of it, pushing George’s heavy legs out of the way and sitting down on the couch with his own drink.

“This has a swear word on it.” Brayden said, his mouth hanging open, eyes fixated on the mug.

“Oh fuck, I mean- whoops, I didn’t mean to give that one to you.” Max apologised, then slapped a remorseful hand to his face.

“It’s okay, my dad swears a lot.” The boy said softly, taking a sip. Max ran a bewildered hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“Am I paying you for this time?” He asked, frowning.

“I don’t mind.” Brayden replied. “Your house is very interesting.” He held the mug with two hands, cross-legged on the chair, looking around. “I didn’t know you were allowed to leave clothes on the floor,” He glanced at George, who was drooling now. “Or take naps, whenever you want.”

“You can do whatever you want when you grow up.” Max said, horrified, but slightly charmed by the small boy.

“Woah.” He said, teeth sticking out comically.

“You can, uh, mow the lawn next.” Max said, changing the subject. “Um, and if you find any big spiders, just leave ‘em alone, kay? My buddy here,” He gestured to George, “Thinks they’re his pets or something.”

“Okay.” Brayden grinned.

“Cool, dude.” Max muttered, taking the boy’s finished mug and putting on the bench. “Let’s go get that lawn mower going.”

 

After Max had sworn enough to cause several motherly heart attacks, they got the old lawn mower going, and Brayden set off pushing it around the overgrown yard. Not wanting to stay in the sun for too long, Max set off back into the house. As he entered the lounge, he saw George’s inky black mess of hair over the back of the couch, and the TV was on.

“Morning George?” He greeted uncertainly, and George grunted softly. Now able to see him properly, Max sighed, his face falling with concern. “Oh, George.” His skin was sickly pale, his hair was a mess, and he had dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. “Yearning doesn’t suit you.” He said softly, sitting down with him.

“I’m gonna make some sick songs, though.” His voice was a monotone.

“Yeah, if you’re not overdosing on Xanax, you fucking idiot.”

“I'm not even _on_ Xanax... And I don’t even know if that’s _possible_ , you egg.” He grumbled, eyes half closed. “Is that kid gone yet?”

“His name is Brayden.” Max replied, patting George’s head softly. “He’s mowing away the dandelions.” Why did that sound so melancholy?

“Fuck, I liked the dandelions.”

“Me too.” He nodded sadly.

“Remind me, why did we agree to this?”  George shuddered as Max ran his hands through his messy mop of hair, gently trying to flatten it out.

“Some stupid self-righteous act of compassion.” Max shook his head.

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I have no idea.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda sad, i don't know what this is but i wrote it last night listening to mellon collie and the infinite sadness (good album) so it became i lil odd. Btw, pink season is SO AMAZING but its way too distracting to write to so i cri ;-;


	11. In Knowing This Was Meant To Be The Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. i have a lot of excuses. A) i had no idea what i wanted to happen this chapter except for "competitive monopoly", B) I'm at my mums now and she keeps yelling at me, C) pink season is out and ITS TOO DISTRACTING TO WRITE TO, D) writing smut is hard because i get horny and i just wanna go jack off and not write. so there u hav it folks. but here's the chapter. idk. read the note at the end bc i have a lil rant about anisa

“Hello?”

_“Hi!”_

“What the fuck? It’s not even ten yet.” Mid-summer sunlight shone through flimsy curtains, making the room much, much too bright. A pounding in Ian’s head made him want to swear off alcohol forever.

_“I called you last night, you didn’t pick up.”_ He couldn’t tell whether Max was angry or concerned. He breathed in shakily, half asleep.

“Can I call you back Max? I’m not even awake.” Ian mumbled.

_“Fine.”_ His voice sounded impatient.

 

Every piece of chocolate cereal that hit the bowl echoed cruelly in his ears, worsening his hangover and making him grimace. _Somebody_ had left the milk out on the bench in the torturous sunshine, and it smelt awful, so he sat down a few minutes later with a dry bowl of cereal and a cup of black coffee. All of a sudden his shitty plain white mug was horrendously boring, and he thought of what Max would say. _Max._ He smiled to himself, instantly feeling better. Then, he scolded himself for being a love-struck loser, and took a strong _, manly_ gulp of his black coffee. In other words, he underestimated the heat (not to mention, the taste), and tried not to shudder. Upon calling Max, he’d barely pressed the button when the boy picked up expectantly.

_“Hey!”_

“Hi.” He said blankly.

_“Listen, you won’t believe the day I had yesterday. I think I got second-hand high or something.”_ Max blurted out loudly, his pitch hurting Ian’s ears.

“Mm?” He made an interested-sounding grunt.

_“Yeah so this boy from our street came over to clean up our fucking yard right, and I’m trying to fucking look after him, and THEN, George was fucking high as shit and had a meltdown over Chad, who...”_ Ian blinked slowly as Max continued to ramble on, explaining the day in detail. Ian interspersed concerned grunts.

“Wait... Chad?” He said eventually, cringing as he crunched down on hard cereal.

_“Yeah, he’s got a crush on the fucking kid! Jesus Ian, are you listening?”_ Max whined.

“I’m really... I’m really hungover.” Ian grumbled, yawning. “Sorry.”

_“Oh.”_ Max sounded guilty. _“And I’ve just been fucking, yelling in your ear. God, sorry. Can I come over? I’ll use my inside voice.”_ He gushed, sounding frantic. Ian burped loudly, then grimaced as it rung agonisingly through his aching head.

“Yeah... yeah, sure.”

_“Okay, be there soon.”_ Max said, sounding concerned. He hung up.

There was nothing good on TV, as they couldn’t afford any good channels. Ian was stuck watching a frying pan infomercial over and over on the lowest volume, eating his cereal and waiting for Max to arrive. Getting dressed or freshening up at all didn’t run through his head; he was too tired, and too lazy to care anyway. Finn came out after a bit and trudged into the kitchen, dragging their socked feet behind them, muttering something under their breath. No greeting came from either of them, but Ian felt resentful eyes boring into his head as he sat and drank his milkless beverage. A couple minutes later, Finn made their way back to their bedroom, with a cup of _soy_ coffee, and some Panadol. Ian kept cringing at the taste of his drink, but would rather no milk than soy milk. Besides, he felt as though he might be murdered if he stole Finn’s milk after what happened last night.

 

“What the fuck _happened_ last night, babe?” Max sat down gently next Ian, but his tone was forceful.

“Very competitive monopoly.” Ian mumbled, looking down, and Max stifled a laugh.

“Oh, oh... god, you’re not joking.” Max choked out, giving him a disbelieving look. “And the hangover?”

“You... drink, when you, um, lose money,” Explained Ian, gesturing vaguely. “Or something like that.” He rubbed his forehead, then limply leaned on Max’s shoulder. “I’m never drinking again.” He mumbled into Max’s shirt.

“Why am I always the one comforting people?” Max said quietly, irritation bubbling in his voice.

“Because you’re not as much of a mess.” Ian’s glasses were off, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his hair was sticking up at the back. An empty bowl was on the table, upside down next to an ugly mug.

“True.” Max agreed. “Do you wanna go get McDonald’s?”

“Out _side?”_ Ian looked offended, sitting up straight. “In _that_ sun?” Max rolled his eyes.

“Good point.”

 

After a while of cuddling and various explanations on the couch, they headed down to Ian’s bedroom.

“Watch out,” Ian whispered, as they walked past the door to Charlie’s room. “I don’t even know if she’s home, but she probably wants to kill me.” He looked genuinely afraid, his voice hushed.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Asked Max, as they entered Ian’s room.

“Fucking obliterated her.” Ian said, without a trace of humour in his voice. Max snorted, his eyes widening, as he sat on Ian’s bed. He wriggled up against the wall, as Ian looked around for a shirt.

“Keep it off, I like looking at you.” Max said, smiling, and beckoned Ian closer. Ian shrugged and crawled towards Max, settling in between the boy’s legs, head resting on his chest. Curling fingers snaked their way into Ian’s fluffy hair, making him shudder. Another hand came to caress his collars bones, sweeping back and forth softly.

“If you touch me anywhere else I swear to god I’ll throw up on you.” Ian warned, quiet but intimidating.

“Your skin is so warm, Ian.” Max ignored his threat, stroking his shoulders. “You sure you’re not sick?”

“Fuck no, I’m just hungover.” His eyes screwed up as a pang of pain rattled through his head. “Anyway, um, tell me about yesterday.” He let out a shaky breath. “Use your inside voice.”

“Well, um,” Max said, softly. “George is sad because he likes Chad and Chad doesn’t like him back.” A small smile grew on Ian’s lips. “Completely out of the blue, I had no idea he was into him or anything.”

“Cause you’re always paying attention to me.” Ian sniggered, then clutched at his sore head. Max continued slowly caressing his torso and playing with his hair. Then he made a disgruntled noise.

“Fuck... Am I being a bad friend?” His hands stopped moving. Ian turned his head to face Max, who was looking dismayed.

“Huh?”

“Am I ignoring George because of you?” Max looked terrified. “Oh, shit.”

“What, no!” Ian said, confused. “I’m pretty sure you know better than anyone else he’s mysterious as fuck.” He turned back around. “He probably didn’t even realise himself that he had a crush on the kid.” Max snorted.

“Maybe we should stop calling Chad “The Kid”, dude. It sounds a bit creepy.” He started playing with Ian’s hair again, and a comfortable silence fell. After a while, he said quietly, “Jesus Ian, are we going too fast?” His voice was heavy with fear.

“Eh?” Ian made a confused noise.

“We’ve only known each other for like... two weeks, dude.” Max murmured. “And we’re like... _boyfriend n boyfriend_!” He said it in a mocking voice.  “I feel like I’m in high school again.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Ian craned his neck back around. “Don’t worry, we’re fine.” He comforted, and Max groaned a bit.

“Maybe I actually did get second hand high.” He muttered, making Ian snort.

“Sure... sure, Max.” He said wryly, as Max trailed his fingers over Ian’s collarbones. They both fell silent, Max worried about George, and Ian just wanting his shitty headache to go away. Warm sunlight streamed through the partly open curtains, falling on one of Ian’s shoulders and the side of his face. Still in between Max’s legs, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the boy’s chest, sighing softly. Max hummed as his fingers travelled over Ian’s bare torso, cold against Ian’s flushed skin. Eventually Max spoke up, shifting slightly.

“Do you still feel like absolute death?” He whispered, as though he was afraid Ian was asleep. The hands travelled fleetingly down past his belly button, brushing against his hipbones. Ian sighed.

“Kind of.” He blinked slowly, brushing his hair off his face. “Slightly less than I did earlier.” His voice was quiet and level. Max kissed his head softly, looking down.

“I’m horny.” He spoke into Ian’s hair, hugging him closer, and his hands got dangerously closer to Ian’s crotch.

“Go jack off in the bathroom.” Ian protested half-heartedly. Max made a sad noise, pouting.

“Pleaaaaseeeee...” He whined, fingers playing with the waistband of Ian’s boxers. “Baaaabe...”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” His voice was low.

“Is it working?” Max muttered against Ian’s head, and Ian groaned, tipping his head to the side.

“Kind of.” This made Max smile, and he gently pushed Ian’s body away from him, leaving the wall. Ian moved sluggishly, wincing at the headache he still had as Max slowly shifted him to where he was sitting, propped up with pillows, against the head of the bed. Max kneeled beside him, smiling sweetly. He pressed a soft kiss to Ian’s lips, hands reaching down to pull down his boxers. Ian kissed back lazily, trying not to move his head.

“Just lay back,” Max instructed, kissing Ian’s jaw. “I owe you one anyway.” Ian murmured a quiet response, as max moved backwards, leaning back on his knees. He pulled Ian’s half hard dick from his boxers, then bent down and swiftly licked it, looking up at Ian wide-eyed. With a hand around the base, he wrapped his lips around Ian’s cock, taking it into his mouth gradually. Ian sighed shakily, closing his eyes as Max began bobbing his head up and down. His curly hair fell down around his face, and he reached a hand up to push it out of the way, tucking it behind his ear. He licked at the tip of Ian’s cock as he bounced, and used his hand on what wasn’t in his mouth. Looking up at Ian, he sucked his cheeks in, causing him to shudder and let out a soft moan, which made Max shiver. Gaining speed, he pushed his head down further, taking his hand off and trying not to gag as the tip hit the back of his throat. Ian groaned as Max began to deepthroat him, moving up and down rapidly, still looking up at him with those sinful eyes.

Ian threw his head back and screwed up his face as Max pleasured him, hands clutching the bedsheets. Tears sprung into Max’s eyes as he sucked his cock, nose brushing against Ian’s crotch, lips red and hair dishevelled. Ian tensed up as he neared orgasm, and he muttered a low _“fuck”,_ body shuddering and twitching as he came close. Max began to jerk off his cock and just lick at the tip, saliva dripping from his wet lips. He held Ian’s cock to his mouth, and made eye contact with him as he was finally pushed over the edge. Ian gasped loudly, screwing his eyes shut and clenching his fists as he came in Max’s mouth, and low moans filled the room as Max kept jerking him off, swallowing Ian’s cum as it shot down his throat.

He finally pulled away, letting some of it dribble down his chin, looking dazed. Ian was staring at him breathlessly, face flushed.

“You’re so beautiful Max.” He breathed, as Max swallowed and wiped his teary eyes, a string of saliva hanging from his mouth. He wiped it away, looking obscenely beautiful, still breathless himself.

“You gonna get me off?” He choked out. A smug smile crept onto Ian’s face, and he slowly sat back, looking coy.

“You know what? I’m tired. _AND_ hungover.” He said pompously. “And _frankly_ , I think _you’d_ better be going.” His hands twitched maliciously, the smile on his face growing.

“That’s just petty.” Max scowled. “Anyway, I’m not leaving, so um, you can finish me off, or I’m just gonna go jack off in the bathroom.” He glared at Ian, who stared back at him, a mean twinkle in his eye.

“You _know_ , I’m hungry. Didn’t you say you wanted to McDonalds, _Max_?” He kept smiling that evil smile, almost shaking with amusement.  Max blinked slowly.

“I’m gonna fucking nut on everything you love, cunt.” He said monotonously, voice laced with anger. He kept glaring back at Ian. “I’m gonna cum on your dumb weed shit.” This made Ian burst into laughter, and he broke eye contact, cackling loudly. Max scowled, but eventually started laughing too, falling over on the bed with Ian. Ian then seemed to remember his headache, and clutched at his head, wincing.

“Ow.” He muttered, closing his eyes.

“But dude, are you gonna get me off?” Max said, looking concerned. “Or am I actually gonna have to do it myself?” Ian rolled his eyes, but relented

“Sure, sure, “He chuckled. “I can give you a half-hearted handjob.”

“ _Wow_ , everything I’ve _ever_ dreamed.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just remembered, another reason i found it hard to write this is bc i was watching anisas youtube vids and then i got freaked out abt shipping and stuff. i totally 100% support ian and anisa and i love them lots and want them to be happy and i got a bit freaked abt writing maxian like what if any of them read this, i would die. anyway:  
> I hate so much how people hate on anisa bc she was/is a "boobie streamer" or a slut, its so fucking goddamn sexist and disgusting. or they say she's dumb, or stupid and dating ian just for fame. JUST CAUSE SHE USES HER BODY TO MAKE MONEY DOES NOT MEAN SHE'S DUMB, RLLY IT MAKES HER SMART WTF,, IF YOU HAVE A GOOD BODY WHY NOT USE IT ??? + ian is not a baby and you calling anisa a slut will not save his wah wahhh feelings, he's a big boy. im just aaaaaaaaah because there's so much casual sexism going on and i hate it and i just want anisa to be happy and supported. go sub to her youtube channel. sorry for the rant, hope u enjoyed the chapter


	12. A Go-Go-Go-Kids, A Go-Go-Go-Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait, i'm feeling a lil down and finding it hard to write. im sorry if its a bit lacking,

George’s room was in a perpetual state of darkness. The only time the curtains were ever opened was at night time, when you could look out and see the twinkling lights of quiet homes, the rows upon rows of sleeping streets stretching on for miles. Not only was it dark, it was nearly impossible to wade through the clothing, paper, and random shit on the ground, to where George was perched on an equally cluttered desk. A small lamp illuminated his bare legs, casting a dramatic shadow on his weary face.

“Do you ever wear clothes, George?” Ian somehow made it to the messy bed, placing himself gingerly down upon it.

“I don’t see the need.” His voice was slow, calm, and echoed through the stagnant room. “Besides, it’s summer.” Ian glanced at a digital clock, which glowed _3:12 PM,_ and looked to the curtains that somehow blocked out the unrelenting sunshine from outside _._ He glanced back to the boy on the desk, who was staring blankly into space.

“You still heartbroken?” Ian asked, watching his face carefully.

“Not really,” George replied, snapping out of his daze. “I got over worked up.”

“You freaked Max out.” He commented, earning a snort from George.

“This happens all the time, don’t worry dude.” His face was showing some sort of happiness, or at least some type of dry amusement.

“Oh, the throes of a struggling artist.” Ian joked, smiling uneasily. “What even happened between you and Chad?” George looked at him, then chuckled.

“Fuck, dude,” He scratched at his neck, looking down. “Nothing, really. I hung out with him, and um, tried to kiss him, then he threw me out.”

“Oh, oh my god...” Ian burst into laughter. “It sounds like something from a shitty movie.” George began laughing too.

“Yeah, honestly. It’s cool though. We’re friends again.”

“Oh?” Ian looked at him quizzically. “Hard working, down-to-earth George, good buddies with a spoilt rich white kid?” He grinned, working him up. “Not to mention, one with terrible style?” He tilted his head.

“Fuck off, Ian.” George shot him a joking glare. “If I remember correctly, _you_ are a rich white kid with terrible style.” Ian looked down at his clothing, pouting.

“Humph.” He grumbled. “At least I don’t live with my parents...”

“What was that?” George shot him a look.

“Um, I think Max is missing me,” He changed the subject. “Do you wanna come watch TV with us?” He got off the bed, and began pushing his way towards the door.

“Sure.”

The curtains in the lounge were closed, but light streamed in from the kitchen. Max was standing there, pouring drinks, looking incredibly focused. Ian and George entered the room, and sat down on the couch.

“What is that?” George asked, looking at the bottle in Max’s hand.

“Rosé.” He grinned, pouring it into a sparkly mug.

“Ugh. I don’t drink that gay shit, dude.” George said, rolling his eyes and walking towards the fridge. He pulled a beer out, and turned to Ian, gesturing. “You want one?”

“Ah,” Ian said uneasily, looking to Max. “I’ll have the wine.” Max flashed him a sweet smile, bringing him a polka dotted mug and sitting down next to him. George shook his head, plonking himself down with them on the couch.

“Well this is a gay ol party we’re having here.” George grinned, looking at how close Max and Ian were sitting to each other. “What are we gonna watch?”

“They’re doing iCarly reruns at the moment.” Max grinned, turning on the TV.

“Aw, sick.” George said, smiling. “I used to jack off to iCarly when I was a kid.”

“Me too.” Ian snorted, laughing with George. “Did you, Max?” They both looked to Max, who rolled his eyes.

“Are you serious?” He looked incredulous. “I’ve been gay as fuck since I was like, three.” He grimaced, making the other two laugh. They watched the TV for a bit, Max and Ian curled up together, George on the other end of the couch.

“Ian, when did you start liking dudes?” George asked, during some ads. They both looked to Ian, who swallowed awkwardly.

“Well ah, it all started when my dad left.” He pushed up his glasses. “I just felt the need to shove dicks down my throat, to ah, to make up for the gaping hole he left in me.” He smiled wryly.

“Ha ha, funny. Seriously though, when?” George pushed, looking genuinely interested.

“I don’t fucking know,” Ian sneered. “When did _you_ become a faggot?” He asked, and Max, who was sipping at his wine, started choking, laughing at the same time. As he recovered, he smiled gleefully.

“Ooo, _tell him_ George!” He spluttered, wiping his nose. “This is my _favourite_ story.” He hugged Ian’s arm childishly, and they both looked to George, who was blushing.

“I, uh, um,” He stuttered, and Max continued smiling widely. “I got a crush on Max when we were like, thirteen.” He mumbled, and Max giggled. “And I came out to him and he was like _“woah me too dude_ ”.”

“Did you um, did you date?” Ian said, looking apprehensive.

“Ha! No, I always had a boyfriend, he just pined.” Max smirked. “He got over me eventually.”

“And now we’re best friends.” George finished, smiling a little. The room went silent for a bit, ads still playing on the TV.

“Well this is fucking gay.” Ian said, then burped loudly.

“Well said, dude.” George laughed, then turned his attention back to the TV.

Time seemed to pass very quickly, and cups seemed to refill themselves as they sat together, watching the corny sitcom. The light glowing through the curtains from outside eventually began to fade, as the boy’s laughter got louder and louder. At some dinner-ish time they ordered pizza, and began watching some terrible Adam Sandler film as they ate it, making fun of its stupidity. At some point in drunkenness Max made a remark about how that morning, Ian had said he would never drink again, to which Ian snorted and opened a new beer. When the movie ended, and all the pizzas were gone, and they all laid lazily on the couch with full stomachs, Max spoke up.

“Wanna go for a walk, boys?” He said, then burped.

“Huh?” Ian blinked. “It’s like, 10.”

“Yeah, so we won’t run into anyone.” He kicked George. “Dude, let’s go down to the beach.” George looked at him blankly, blinking.

“You have a beach near you?” Ian said, squinting.

-

“It’s actually just a shitty estuary.” Max explained, as they walked down a path some minutes later. Beachfront houses loomed over them as they walked, various fronds of fancy plants casting gloomy shadows on the pavement they walked on. A couple of prim streets and a steep, graffiti covered walkway had brought them down to a white concrete path which they now ambled along, pretty drunk and pretty wobbly. It really _was_ just a shitty estuary; as they made their way towards the “beach”, all that they could see over a retaining wall was a dark jungle of mangroves, with a little sliver of water somewhere in the midst. The air was cold but not unpleasant, and there was a slight breeze that rustled the leaves of all the backyard trees. Max walked hand in hand with Ian, and George stumbled along in front of them.

“Why are we going to the beach, Max?” George asked, for the fifth time.

“Because,” Max said, squeezing Ian’s hand. “We’re young and free and can do whatever we want.” He adjusted his backpack, which was heavy with beer cans. Ian went to say something, but was drowned out by George inhaling loudly, then doubling over and sneezing uncontrollably. He almost fell over, but finally stopped, and wiped his wet eyes as the other two looked at him worriedly.

“Hay fever,” He coughed, rubbing his nose. “That, or I inhaled a bug.”

“Kids today and their wacky drugs.” Ian giggled, shaking his head. Max laughed, and hugged his arm. They continued walking for a while until they finally got to what could be deemed a beach; a long stretch of white sand that ended at a stark white building which was nestled in a cliff and some swaying trees. A few sailboats bobbed out on the water, far far away, and though the tide seemed to be in, Ian could imagine that it was extremely shallow. Max led them down onto the cool sand, and they sat down on a part where it was semi-firm, facing the water. They were all silent for a moment, listening to the water softly hit the hit the shore, watching the moonlight hit the tiny waves that rolled towards them. Then, Max unzipped his pink backpack, and chucked Ian and Joji a beer each.

“Thanks,” Ian smiled, giving Max a prim kiss on the cheek. “This is pretty pretty, dude.”

“Do you guys wanna swim?” George asked, looking drowsily out into the bay.

“Dude, it’s probably cold as fuck.” Max muttered, wrapping a warm arm around Ian’s waist and scooting closer.

“I thought it was summer?” George pouted.

“Be my guest then, dude.” Max pushed his hair off his forehead. “You’ll probably have to walk for ten minutes before you even get knee deep though.”

“Fine.” George replied, then promptly lay down, looking up at the stars. He wriggled his head, flinging sand everywhere, eventually settling in a George-shaped sand mold. “Man, the world is so cool.” He said quietly, and stretched his arms out.

“You’re probably lying on dog shit.” Max sniggered, looking over.

“I don’t care.” He replied, eyes closed and lips barely moving. “I’m tired.”

“Don’t pass out on me, Geor- Holy _shit_!” Max started, then jerked his head around, looking towards the end of the beach. “Dude, it’s the mask guy!”

“Huh?” Ian looked confused. George turned his head slightly, looking where Max was pointing, eyes fluttering.

“Oh.” He said, seeming indifferent. As he turned his head back around, Ian finally caught sight of the “mask guy”.

 

It was a largish man in a ragged looking black coat, who was walking slowly around the white building. Dark hair was poking out from a large hood, and he seemed to be wearing a white mask with a creepily wide smile on it. He was looking around jerkily, as though he’d lost something, and every time he turned his face towards them, the mask caught the light and shone eerily. His coat went down to his feet, ending in ripped up tatters by the cracked concrete as he shuffled along.

“What the fuck...” Ian muttered, squinting. “Who the hell is he?” Max was gripping him harder than earlier.

“Dude, nobody even knows. He’s just like... the mask guy.” He said sharply, looking afraid. “He just walks around town with the mask on, and sometimes he takes it off and like, hangs it off his belt. But, he has sunglasses on or something.” He explained, wide-eyed, and Ian tried not to laugh.

“And you’re scared of him? Ooo, **_sometimes_** _he wears SUNGLASSES!”_ He mocked, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I heard,” Said George, who prior to speaking had seemed to be asleep, “He did acid once and it fucking... fried his brains, and now he’s homeless.”

“He’s just creepy.” Max shuddered. “I just don’t wanna fucking be abducted or some shit.” He leaned his head on Ian’s shoulder.

“Awww.” Ian said, stroking Max’s hair patronisingly. “We’ll take care of you, Maxy-boy.” Max snorted, and Ian glanced over to the end of the beach again. Just as he looked, the mask guy walked behind the building, disappearing into the copse of thick trees. He took a swig of beer.

“Hey Max?” He said, tapping the boy’s shoulder. Max made an interested noise. “Fuck, marry, kill,” He said, smiling slightly, “Dora the Explorer, mask dude, Hillary Clinton.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Max sat up straight, looking at him incredulously. Ian nodded. “Jesus Christ.”

“Dude.” George spoke up. “Dora can uh, can explore me any day.” He said, then started laughing at his own joke. “Ah – um, I’d marry Hillary for the money and the hot sauce, kill mask guy,” He chuckled, eyes still closed. “And fuck Dora.”

Ian snorted, spitting out beer. Max looked deep in thought.

“Jesus.” He muttered. “I guess I’d fuck Hillary so I could like, blackmail her later.” He chewed his lip. “Uhhhhh, and marry Dora. Because she could teach me a lot about the world. And kill mask guy.” He looked sad, which made Ian laugh.

“Aw, I thought you’d go easy on him.” He nudged Max playfully.

Max glared. “No, he creeps me the fuck out.” He pushed Ian back. “What would you do?”

“Same as George.” He answered, then burped. George lazily held up a fist for him to bump.

“Well then.” Max said, leaning back on Ian. “How about... your own father, a stray dog, Adam Sandler.” A smug smile spread across his face.

“What type of dog is it?” George asked, attempting to drink his beer while lying down. Ian nodded, seconding the question.

“Uuhhhm,” Max looked concentrated. “A greyhound?”

“Ugh, seriously?” Ian grimaced. “The least sexy dog.”

“Real dogs have curves...” George mumbled, making Ian burst into laughter. “Um, fuck.” He continued, grimacing.  “I’d marry my dad, kill the dog, fuck Adam Sandler.” He decided, after a while.

“God,” Ian mumbled. “Me too, probably. But like...” He began, then stopped himself. “Yeah, yeah. Same as George.” He tipped his head back slowly, then lay down on the sand as well. Max followed suit, intertwining their hands, and for a couple of moments they just lay there, breathing quietly, watching the stars.

“It’s so pretty...” Max said softly. “Isn’t space cool?”

“Hey!” George stopped him, hurling a small stick in his general direction. “Don’t avoid answering the question, cunt.” Max pouted.

“Fine...”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact! in my area there actually is this Māori dude with dreads who wears a long black coat and has one of those v for vendetta masks that he wears. He lurks around the soccer fields and stuff, it's super creepy. and my mum told me that he did acid once and became crazy. gr8 stuff.


	13. concept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey kids i stopped writing bc i coulnd't make myself write and it just came out wrong and aaaaahh i just couldn't make anything good, im sorry, But! i wanted to post SOMETHING, So!!
> 
> this is a thing i wrote like 3 days after i began this story, and i knew it would be rlly out of context but i just wanted to get it out. it's rlly cute and idk i feel like its like the concept piece for this story as a whole, and i was gonna post it when it could fit in with the story but whatever, im posting it now. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: THIS DOENST FIT IN PROPERLY WITH THE STORY,, PLEASE DON'T BE CONFUSED!!!
> 
> thankyou for enjoying this fic i really enjoyed writing (when i was writing) i will probably start again soon.

“Do you think,” Max said, one sunny afternoon, as he lay lazily on Ian’s bed, “If your life was a movie, I’d be your manic pixie dream boy?” His head dangled off the side of the bed, rays of light caressing his soft features.

“Nah,” Ian replied, looking over from his desk. “I don’t think I’m handsome or brooding enough to have a movie made about me.”

“True, true.” Max chuckled. “Anyway, I have too many aspirations to exist solely for _your_ character development.”

“Like what?” Leaves from trees outside made sun dappled shadows on Max’s pale skin, shifting softly as the wind blew.

“Hmm?” The boy asked, gazing at the ceiling. Ian swung his chair around.

“Like, what do you wanna do?” Ian asked. “With your life?” Max hummed, twirling a finger through his curly hair. He thought for a moment, then said,

“I want to be big.” Ian looked at him quizzically. “I just want to grow up,” Max elaborated. “And, when I’m big enough, I’ll just like... know what to do.” Some birds twittered outside. Max continued to stare at the ceiling dreamily.

“So what you’re saying is, you have no idea.” Ian crossed his legs. “What you just said made no sense.”

“Oh, give me a fucking break, Ian.” Max retorted, screwing up his pretty features. “What do _you_ wanna do?”

“Dunno.” He shook his head, looking fondly at the boy on the bed. “Stop selling drugs, eventually.”

“Oh?” Max egged him on. “Not cut out for a life of crime? What have you done with my bad boy, gangster boyfriend?” He threw a cheeky smile at Ian.

“Fuck off.” Ian glared jokingly at him. “I don’t know, dude. Maybe become a used car salesman.” He mused. Max shot him a look.

“Well,” Max said, sitting up. “I always wanted to be a drag queen when I was younger. That dream could still come true.”

“Oh yeah? You’re gonna move to the states, pursue a life on the stage?”

“Hmm,” Max smiled, rubbing his glossy eyes and getting off the bed. He walked over to the boy in the chair, and sat on him. Grabbing Ian’s face and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, he murmured, “But what would I do without you, my handsome, tortured, true love?” His hair tickled Ian’s face.

“That’s my pixie dream boy.” Ian smiled, snaking his arms around Max’s waist. “Let’s get old together, and yell at kids on the street.” He nuzzled against Max, leaving small kisses on his collarbones.

“Sounds like a plan, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may start a fanfic with the whole ratdubbz concept (him being kinda evil and slimy and living in an alleyway or some shit), but idk whether to do it maxian or jojian, leave a comment w what you'd like?? hope u enjoyed this short thing also


	14. A Suck-Suck-Suck Kiss, A Suck-Suck-Suck Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey what's up guys, jay here, with a singular upload. I'm more or less back, with a bit o porn and shenanigans for u KOOL KIDs.
> 
> What Happened Previously, In Case You Forgot:  
> george "got over" chad, ian woke up incredibly hungover after some intense monopoly, they all hung out at max n george's, then got drunk and went down to a beach. there they saw a creepy mask man(irrelevant to plot.)

Ian woke up to a very pleasant feeling. It took him a moment to realise not only how over heated the bottom half of his body was, but that there was a body more or less on top of it.

Oh yeah, and a mouth on his dick.

Max realised he’d woken, and pull the covers off his head, looking up at Ian happily for a second, then taking his lips off with a pop.

“Mornin,” He smiled cheekily, looking incredibly soft and cute, but also fiendishly seductive. Ian’s mouth moved for a bit with no sound coming out, until he stuttered out a bewildered,

“Good morning.” Max went back to work, the covers now completely off him, slowly bobbing on Ian’s dick. Some shaky gasps fell from Ian’s mouth as he reached over to grab his glasses on the nightstand, on which was also a glass of water and some Panadol. He reached down to grab Max’s hair, pulling him off.

“Fucking hell, Max.” He said, incredulous. Max sat up, and gave him a grin.

“You’re so cute when you’re surprised, Ian.”

 

A couple sweaty minutes later, they were stumbling into the shower together, what little clothes they had had on strewn onto the floor, door locked, mouths connected. Max grunted as he was pressed against the shower wall, the knob digging into his back.

“Sorry,” Ian muttered, breathless. Within a few seconds the shower was on, and Max was bent over moaning loudly as Ian pressed into him. Water dripped from Ian’s hair onto Max’s back as he leaned against the shower wall. The high-pitched noises Max made were barely masked by the sound of the water, with Ian thrusting into him hungrily, pulling on his hair, grabbing his hips. Legs trembled and tried not to give way as Max clung to the wall with an arched back, biting his lip and blinking the water from his eyes. Ian groaned with pleasure, quickening the pace, watching water droplets fall from Max’s long eyelashes and run down his pink cheeks.

Soon they were both coming, Ian muttering an “oh, fuck”, tugging on Max’s hair, Max arching his back and trembling, legs weak, moaning and shooting his load over the shower wall. Coming down, Ian pulled out of Max gingerly, and ran a hand through his soaked hair.

“Fuck.” Ian muttered, gazing dotingly at Max. Max, however, was beginning to scowl.

“You weren’t wearing a condom, I thought you were gonna pull out.” He glared, wiping his eyes, shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh.” Ian moved closer, pulling him in for a hug. “Sorry.” He rubbed Max’s back, kissing his neck.

“I’m gonna be cleaning cum outta my fuckin ass for a week.” He grumbled, and Ian snorted. “Not to mention,” He added, sounding mad but returning the embrace, “How many STDs I could have just gotten.”

“Oh come on, Max.” Ian rolled his eyes, now rubbing soap on Max’s reluctant body. “I’m clean, I swear.”

“You could have gotten me _pregnant!_ ” He said, head tilted back, as Ian rubbed his chest and kissed at his jawline.

“Yes, how foolish of me.” Ian retorted, humour now playing on his voice. “What can I do to make it up to you, Maxy-boy?” He came to eye level with Max, looking at him intensely, a small smile on his face.

“Well.” Max grinned, looking coy, head tilted to one side. “I have an idea.”

 

-

 

“No.” Ian huffed, now sitting on the kitchen bench, as Max made him breakfast. “I’m not going to do that. You will never get me to do that. I didn’t even do anything that bad.”

“Awww.” Max whined, pouting and looking up at Ian pleadingly. “Please?” He blinked, trying to look as cute as possible. It didn’t work, sadly.

“No.”

“Fine.” Max shot back, frowning. “Oo. I have another idea.” A smile spread across his face. He walked up to Ian and whispered it in his ear, then pulled back and looked at him apprehensively.

“I’m not a sub, Max.” His eyes followed the boy as he returned back to the stove.

“Just because you’ve never tried it.” Max retorted, facing away.

“I have no desire to.”

“But you never know, you could enjoy it.” He could hear Max’s slightly amused frustration.

“Fine.” Ian relented. “But this is ridiculous.” Max turned back around, and slinked towards him, looking up at Ian seductively as he stood between his parted legs.

“Good.” He said, barely audible, snaking his arms around Ian’s waist. “It’ll be great.” He returned to the eggs he was scrambling, that were beginning to smell a bit burnt.

 

With the food, and Ian with coffee, they sat down on either end of the couch, facing each other with legs intertwined. The sun was beaming through a crack in the curtains, falling on Ian’s face and chest. Max watched him fondly, the light moving and glinting off Ian’s glasses as the curtain flowed in the slight breeze. Ian gave him a small smile when he saw Max staring, but looked deep in thought.

“So um,” He said, looking down and pushing up his glasses. “When do you wanna, ah...”

“Not tonight,” Max said, pitying his discomfort. “I have to work.”

“Tomorrow night?” Ian asked, with a mouthful of food.

“Nah,” Max gave him a smile. “I have work again.”

“You cunt.” Ian’s lips curled. “You’re prolonging the agony.”

“Um, I think you mean excitement, young man.” Max grinned. “It’s hard for me too.” Ian’s brow furrowed.

“I’m going to fight you.” He snarled. Max threw a bit of egg at him.

“Sure, bitch.” He grinned. Ian stuck his tongue out.

 

The door from the hallway creaked, and George entered the living room.

“Hey faggots,” He greeted, looking half-asleep, then looked at his phone. “You’re having breakfast at eleven o’clock! _Wow_ Max, that’s appalling!” He said sarcastically, chuckling.

“Shut up, George. It was a late night.” Max defended himself, actually looking mad... It made George laugh.

“Chill out dude, I was joking.” He looked to Ian, then addressed Max again. “Can I have a shower or will I get chlamydia?” He grinned.

“Fuck off, George.” Max huffed, crossing his arms. George kept grinning cheekily, and ruffled Ian’s hair.

“I’m glad you’re getting laid, dude.” He said, seeming genuine, and Ian broke into a laugh.

“Thanks Georgie.” His eyes crinkled, smiling sardonically. George left the room a couple minutes later, coffee in hand. Max and Ian finished their food, and lay on the couch lazily, but Max could tell Ian was still thinking about his proposition. Tingles flooded his body as he thought about it.

“Come on, let’s do the dishes, dude.” He stood up, adjusting his pants. Ian snapped out a daze, looking up at him.

“Oh, um yea.”

 

After doing the dishes, (slowly; there was a lot of time spent kissing), and fucking lazily on Max’s bed, Max farewelled Ian at the door. Breaking apart from a passionate kiss, Max hugged Ian tightly.

“Wow, we really are insufferable, aren’t we.” He grimaced, arms wrapped around Ian’s neck.

“Yeah, stop being so fucking horny, Max.” Ian replied, voice laced with mirth. He squeezed Max’s butt.

“Okay, bye.” Max smiled, holding the door, watching as Ian walked down the path, through the freshly mowed lawn. Ian gave him a fond look, then turned away and began walking up the street; George had taken the car. But hey, that was okay, Ian was used to using public transport.

 

At the bus stop, there were some young-ish looking girls chewing gum and obviously trying to look nonchalantly cool. Ian gave them a shy smile, sitting on the further end of the seat. The girl with a choker on smiled back and inched closer to him.

“Hey.” She looked at him with piercing eyes. “I’ve never seen you around here before. Have you just moved?”

“A-ah,” Ian’s surprise was noticeable in his voice. “Ah, no, I have a friend who lives around here.”

“Oh!” She said, flashing a smile and flipping her hair. “Well, ah, I’m Willow. What’s your name?”

“Um- um, Ian.” He adjusted his glasses, befuddled. And then, it suddenly dawned on him that he was getting hit on. Oh boy.

“Nice!” She flashed another blinding smile. “Could I get your number?” Ian had to try not to snort. Poor girl.

“Um, no sorry. I have a boyfriend, he’d probably beat you up. He’s really scary. Sorry.” He deadpanned, trying not to chuckle. The girl’s face fell, but she plastered on a sweet smile.

“Ohmygosh! I’m so sorry! I thought you were straight!” She gasped, then turned away, shooting her friend a look. Suddenly, it was a very awkward wait for the bus. Luckily, it came in a couple of minutes, and Ian got on, heading towards the back.

 

He found it odd to not be single. Usually, he would have eagerly given the girl his number. Not that, uh, he got hit on very often. But now, he had a boyfriend, a wonderful, hot, amazing boyfriend. A boyfriend that wanted him to..? Yeah, yeah, he didn’t _have_ to do anything. He knew that if he flat out said no, Max would respect that. But part of his lover’s request interested him, made him curious... Honestly, it excited him. To no end. Flushing cheeks made Ian realise he was getting worked up, and he suddenly felt dirty in his day old clothing. Yeah, even underwear too. (Max had dug in his drawers to find some men’s underwear, but they didn’t fit Ian, and he wasn’t about to wear panties).

 

The bus stopped at the top of his street, and he awkwardly staggered off. When he entered his house, Charlie pounced on him. It seemed as though she had gotten over her grudge from the day before.

“Where have you been!?” She demanded, though Ian could tell she knew exactly where. “Have you been getting mad dick?” She raised her eyebrows, breaking into a grin.

“Yeah, I can barely walk.” Ian said sheepishly, enjoying the widening of her eyes.

“You’re a bottom? Holy shit.” She gaped, voice uncomfortably loud, hand coming to land roughly on Ian’s shoulder.

“No,” Ian rolled his eyes, relenting. “I was joking.”

“Oh.”  The surprised look left her face. “Well, welcome back, dude.” She turned away. “Change your clothes, you smell like beer.” Ian just rolled his eyes again, and head off down the hallway.

 

Once he’d changed and brushed his teeth, he came back out into the kitchen. Charlie was sitting at the table, drinking tea and scrolling through something on her phone. Just as he was about to open the pantry, Charlie blurted,

“We’re out of basically everything. And don’t you dare take my fucking muesli.” She continued to stare at her phone, ignoring Ian’s exasperated look.

“I’ll go shopping then. You want anything?” He grumbled.

“Yeah!” She looked up at him eagerly, pulling a scrumpled piece of paper from her pocket. She stuck it out towards Ian. “Here. I’ll pay you back.”

“How do you know I even have enough to buy any of it?” He took the paper reluctantly, scrutinising it. “ _Tampons_? Seriously, Charlie?”

“Oh come on, they’re obviously not for you.” She huffed. “They’ll just think you’re a doting boyfriend.” Charlie smirked.

“I’m dating a boy for a reason, you ass.” Ian rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah.” She snorted. “ _Just_ so you can avoid buying tampons. I’m gonna tell Max you’re using him, loser.”

“Fuck off, cunt.” Ian shot back, having no witty response. And, “I’m taking your car.” He took her keys from the coffee table.

“Okay!” She called cheerfully. “Make sure you come home at a reasonable hour!”

 

Ian hadn’t been in a supermarket for weeks. The pristine cleanliness pissed him off, and the hordes of angry looking elderly people intimidated him. His trolley had a fucked wheel, which spun around and made him almost crash into a stand of leeks as he absentmindedly sneered at the pretentiously over-priced fruits and vegetables.

_\- Bananas_

_\- Almonds_

_\- Tea Bags_

_\- Cucumber_

_\- Celery_

_\- Condoms_

_\- Rice Noodles_

He checked off the items on Charlie’s list, slightly amused and slightly confused. Just as Ian began heading to the freezer section to get some pizza, he heard someone yelling in the baking aisle. What the fuck? As he turned the corner, he saw a short, blonde woman wearing white capris cussing out a taller woman who was sporting (gag) pink crocs. _Aw yeah, white supermarket drama._ Ian headed up the aisle, pretending to be interested in wholegrain flour as he listened to the confrontation.

 _“You fucking SAW me coming and you KNEW I had my eyes on that! YOU DON’T EVEN NEED IT, MELISSA!”_ Yelled the blonde lady. Her face was an alarming shade of red.

 _“I’m sorry, Andrea. I didn’t know you wanted it, but I got it first, and fair is fair. I’m sure it’ll be in stock again soon.”_ The taller woman replied calmly, hand on hip.

_“You BITCH! Sandra won’t invite you for a house party ever again when she hears about THIS!”_

_“Please clam down, Andrea. You’re going to get yourself kicked out.”_

_“Don’t tell ME to calm down!”_ Andrea shrieked, and kicked her sandaled foot out to impact the taller lady’s shin. The woman’s face turned from mildly off-put to furious, and without a moment of hesitation, she punched the shorter woman in the face. Ian let out an audible gasp. The taller one, Melissa, looked to him, appearing to be equally as shocked. Andrea was on the floor, lips quivering like a goldfish, clutching at her cheek. Ian averted his gaze, feeling like he had interrupted their privacy. Which was dumb, seeing as though they were having a fight in the middle of a supermarket.

 

Alarmed noises floated through the air as security guards were alerted of what had happened. Looking terrified, Melissa walked briskly up to Ian and his wobbly trolley, and walked him off in the opposite direction. Ian gave her a confused look, but let himself be led.

“Golly, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, as they turned into the pet food aisle. “I don’t wanted to be kicked out. Please will you walk with me and pretend to be my husband?” She gushed, looking afraid (but also exhilarated). Ian stammered out a meek “yes” and so, they walked around the supermarket for some minutes, avoiding security guards and trying to look nonchalant.

“I can’t believe I punched her. I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I met that bitch.” Said Melissa, after a long period of tentative silence. Ian snorted.

“I can’t imagine you envisioned it happening in a supermarket.” He said shyly, and adjusted his glasses.

“No, no I didn’t.” Melissa looked at him, smiling warmly. Although he’d never met her before, Ian felt as though he could trust her. It was something about her look, the freckles dotted across her face, the hideous shoes, the knowing smile. She was a bit older than Ian, probably in her thirties. He smiled back.

 

After a while, she left him to return to her own shopping, hoping the coast was clear.

“Bye dear! Thankyou!” She gave him another warm smile, leaving him confused, but oddly happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What A Caricature Of White Culture! whenever i'm with rich white ladies i'm always hoping they'll fight. Anyway, i hope you enjoyed this. 
> 
> I have the beginning of a new fic up, called Lips of Gorse!!( i may change the title) It's maxian, and basically max is a dumb bitch and idubbbz is a scary evil dude who lives in an alleyway, or something. (Bit of a warning though for non-con and/or violence. but not yet, just in future chapters.) please check it out!! 
> 
> also, im v hype for the content cop. fffffuuuuuckkkkk i can't wait to jack off to it.
> 
> leaf a comment if u enjoyed this shit brah


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